


Arthur vs. W Academy

by aricasuntoast



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Will be a very long fic, also mentions physical abuse, because "damn these rich people", somewhat inspired by ouran hshc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-11
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 16:01:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 43,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2116041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aricasuntoast/pseuds/aricasuntoast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is the next successor to the famous, billionaire family business, Kirkland Corporation. His entire life he's been raised to be proper and mannered, to have a personality fit for king. He's been trapped inside his small world, with no one to talk to and no parents to love him. When he is sent to America to attend W Academy, one of the world's best schools, he learns that being with his new friends - who to his family think to be lowly commoners from the "traitor country" - is worth more than him than being the CEO of a powerful company.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Here's the thing: this wasn't supposed to remind me so much of Ouran High School Host Club. Actually, only his situation resembles Kyoya's must-be-all-this dilemma. Okay, just ignore that I said it was somewhat inspired. So I originally thought of Arthur and Alfred having their cultural differences in elementary, but as I started writing, oops it was W Academy. Keep in mind that while that school has a high tuition, most students are quite rich but not as rich as freaking CEO-to-be Arthur, so they treat him like a king. And he doesn't really like that.
> 
> EDIT: Here I am, revamping this story yet again. This is a major change, I decided to add way more angst and lengthy narration, also, I made Arthur's mom dead. Oops.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat between a prologue and an actual chapter, I give you the insights of Arthur Kirkland. He's super rich, and he's soon to take over a monster corporation (in all departments of businesses, like hospitals and stores - only because I couldn't decide what and how to write about it)! Great life, right? Wrong. His father hates him and he only knows how to talk business.

Arthur sat sickeningly still on the edge of their family’s prized antique sofa, his back at a stiff angle and hands placed ever so gently on his lap. The sofa was made hundreds of years ago as a present from a nobleman, and ever since was passed down from generation to generation. Its unique framework and the unreproducible, precise, delicate design was a true symbol of the Kirkland family. And just like the men and women before him, Arthur must exceed their standards. Being from this family there was a lot to do just to be approved of. For a rich and important name in English business, it was crucial he must be fit as heir to the Kirkland Company.

“Arthur,” his father said, taking a sip from the priceless teacup he held. His father was an ambitious man, and left no time for anything else other than business. He worked hard to make sure his son was legible to take over the biggest corporation in Western Europe. It had yet to grow; soon it would captivate the world, dominating the enterprises. “Should I remind you, you are traveling to America tomorrow to receive an education at the W Academy. It is important that you familiarize yourself with the hardships of worldwide success. You are to attend this school so you learn your place before you come of age. Even then, you will continue to develop your ability to run a corporation.”

Arthur waited until he was silent. The last time he had spoken before it was his turn, his father struck him. He subconsciously stroked his cheek where he was hit. But also the last time he was smacked, he was carelessly bickering about the subject he was just about to tread into. “I understand, Father. But I have one question: why must I be placed with the 2nd years if I am a 3rd year? And why do I have to go to an _American_ school?” He was plenty fine at his private school in northern England. He had many friends who respected him, like any mannered person should. He had never been to America before. What if the rumors about the ill-spoken pigs who betrayed their country were true?

“That was two questions.” He bitterly said. Normally a parent should cherish their only child, but he treated his son as if he never wanted him in the first place. Arthur was the cause of his wife's death, shortly after his birth. It was his fault that this man was cursed with this child. He never even wanted a son, other than the reason to run the family business, but it was /she/ who wanted to keep him. But she was no longer here, and only disgust and grief filled Arthur’s father’s empty heart. There was no reason to have him here, for Mr. Kirkland’s ability to love was lost with his wife. Whenever he looked at this distasteful bastard, he only saw disappointment.

“You should be able to answer those questions yourself. America is where all the business takes place, and where the people are easiest to manipulate. To be able to run a business that our family has maintained for almost a century, you will be transferred to a school that is even better than the one you're attending now. W Academy is one of the world’s best schools. Only the best go there. I trust you will be superior among your classmates. As for the grade levels, English education is very different from American education. They learn at a different pace. You will be placed in a lower year, but this is the W Academy we’re talking about; since these students are extremely intelligent, you might fit right in.” Mr. Kirkland continued. “Maybe they might even be a challenge for you. See that it won’t happen and do not disappoint me further than you already have.”

“Yes, Father.” Arthur said. That was all he wanted to say, and all he _could_  say. Any hesitance to his father calling him a failure would earn him a slap in the face, talking back, a punch. Often times his father was so repulsed by his presence he beat Arthur, and desperately tried cover up his son’s existence. He was not allowed to leave his room for a week, so his wounds would heal. It was an agonizing experience, dealing with the pain that ate him. He had still survived, and soon his father only came to his room to remind him what a failure he was. He couldn’t even be born without killing someone. Mr. Kirkland’s ‘visits’ weren’t as severe as that one night, but eventually Arthur’s body slowly deteriorated. Some nights, while bandaging himself, he wondered if his mother had survived, if his life would be like this. Was her death the main cause of Mr. Kirkland’s violence? Even while dead drunk, he wasn’t very aggressive, it was only his sober misery that tormented the both of them. Arthur wondered if his mother would have been nice, caring, and sweet – or anything his father was not. Opposites do attract, don’t they? Then the thought dawned over him: what if his mother was just as cruel as his father? He shivered. He couldn’t possibly handle this much emotional stress. He didn’t need another person in his life to tell him he was only worth keeping alive for the sake of Kirkland Corporation. Even those who didn’t say that weren’t any better. Fake smiles, lifeless eyes, minds only focused on getting to the point: money; it was maddening, no one seemed to know that Arthur longed for real love. He’d read in books about this ‘love’, it came in different forms. One could love romantically, or simply enjoy a person’s company or doing something. It tortured him, to _know_ he was missing out on something he didn't know.

The night before he left for America, Arthur decided maybe it was a good thing his father was sending him off to some obscure academy. It would definitely do the men well without the pressure of each other. He needed a break from his unmerciful father and his obsession with the business. The last thing his father needed was to look after a boy he was ashamed to call his son, not that he actually took care of him. There were just as many unloving servants around to spread the not-love.

Hopefully things would change for the better when he left England. Arthur really, truly, madly, deeply longed for something – anything – to happen to him, just something to show that he was alive. That was the true meaning of life, to experience new things, to live, laugh, and love. He was at his wit’s end. How much longer could he have dragged out this death?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, you liked that, didn't you? The intensity of his father's approval set you on edge. Apologies: I can't really write so I was horrible at describing it. Just remember: Otori Kyoya. I still haven't decided what field Kirkland Corporation is all about. I know Otori has medical stuff...Just let your imagination take over. Or think Kirkland Corp. is just some giant supercompany. Like a have-it-all Target. Want some clothes? Cool. Have some medicine too.
> 
> P.S. I might take forever to finish this, because one: This was meant to be a one-shot. Two: Extremely undeveloped plot, I'm basically improv writing. And three: school starts soon! I doubt my English teacher would let me turn in a fanfiction for extra credit.
> 
> P.P.S. This is more of a plot story, so if you're looking for the smut, I have to disappoint you, friend. It would take a while to get to that, and it's not like Arthur and Alfred are gonna have some hardcore kinky sex.
> 
> Knowing this warnings, I encourage you to keep reading.


	2. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning that Arthur leaves for America. Many things happen, like leaving the only person he held dear, getting hit in the face by American culture, and being visited by someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Michelle is Seychelles, by the way. It's not official, but it's used a lot. Also heads up, when the new characters come in, the way their roles are played at the academy are MOSTLY IRRELEVANT to the main plot of Hetalia. (EDIT: No, seriously, the way I arrange these countries by age and rank is really messed up. I surprised myself with how much I twisted the story into my own. So it's really not like Gauken Hetalia.) Unless I say so, everyone that will be introduced are not related. But just for the hell of it I made Arthur and Francis cousins to add tension. FOR SOME REASON ARTHUR IS COMPLETELY BRITISH AND FRANCIS IS COMPLETELY FRANCE. EVEN THOUGH THEY'RE RELATED. But whatever. A lot of the Hetalia cliques will also be presented that way, like the Nordic 5 and stuff.
> 
> EDIT: I changed Liechtenstein's name from Erika to Lili Zwingili.

After the 8-hour flight, Arthur was tuckered and practically braindead. For several hours, he had spent the time watching TV, reading, eating, and sleeping. It was a horrible cycle, and after forming a giant headache, he had landed and was thrown into another long ride towards the city. He didn’t feel like talking to people, but anyone would know that’s just being a dick. The moment Arthur stepped onto school grounds, he felt everyone’s eyes on him. Not only was he ‘the new kid’, he was so rich he could have bought the school with the money in his pocket. They’d seen pictures of him and his parents in the newspapers, with headlines like _World’s Richest Family_ or _Behind Kirkland Corporation._ The headmaster assigned him a dorm room and had some of the staff carry his heavy bags. Arthur was put in a dorm with someone else, but that person was out, so he wouldn’t know who he or she was until later. He was so tired he wanted to just get into bed and never leave. He felt so disconnected from home, yet he could still feel his father's presence lingering around him.

“Hey, you still need to go to class, son.” One of the workers told him. Arthur looked at him. He wondered why the man had called him son, and realized it was probably some American thing. Would fathers call their real sons 'sons', he questioned. Would girls be randomly referred to as 'daughters' as well? He concluded Americans were truly bizarre and followed the man to his class, ignoring the strange slang. _  
_

The man opened the door for him and he walked in. Immediately, the other children began to whisper with excitement. It was rude, but he couldn’t help but overhear their loud conversations. It was like they could only talk loud, or louder. It was almost deafening compared to the hushed whispers at dinner parties. He listened in to their comments.

The two girls nearest him giggled, their eyes glued on him. “Is that him? The new kid?” One of them asked.

“It must be, he looks like his dad.”

“Isn’t his dad the director of that big corporation?”

“Obviously. I wonder why he’s here.”

Arthur blushed when he heard what others said about him. He tried not to make it obvious that he was eavesdropping, so he looked at the far wall, avoiding the staring looks. He awkwardly stood there and hoped the teacher would notice how distracted his class was.

“You know, that new kid’s kinda cute from an angle.”

“Someone’s got a crush! That’s Arthur Kirkland.”

“ _The_ Arthur Kirkland? My uncle works at one of his hospitals in the city.”

“They’ve got businesses everywhere! Isn’t he like, super rich?”

“Yeah! Why'd he come all the way from England?”

The teacher realized the students were chattering too much, and saw Arthur standing in the doorway. He motioned him over and quieted the class. “Okay, class, our new student is finally here! This is Arthur Kirkland, and he’ll be joining us for the rest of the year.” Some kids mumbled hello and most returned to gossiping about him. “Hello, my name is Mr. Kiku Honda.” His teacher looked patient and caring. He had met some of his relatives at balls and parties because they owned Honda (clearly because of their surname). He was shocked to see someone from that family teaching here. Maybe he drifted from the honorable family standards. He silently applauded him for taking a different route.

A few minutes in, Arthur turned around to a group of kids behind him. “If you’re going to talk about me, you might as well talk about it _with_ me.” They laughed at him and he raised an eyebrow. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Your accent,” a girl said, giggling. She had long wavy, auburn hair and soft green eyes. “So posh.” Arthur frowned. Was the way he spoke really so amusing? He also noted on the way she didn’t use complete sentences. Were all Americans like this?

“Come on, your accent was just as hilarious when you first came here.” the boy said. He had pretty, dark brown hair with a wild curly strand. He wore glasses, but the lenses didn’t seem real, however it brought out his purple eyes. He had a small mole next to his lip. He also carried himself with a aristocratic aura. If anything, _he_ looked like the posh one.

“‘Came here’? What do you mean?” Arthur asked. “Aren’t you all American?”

The third person in their group finally talked. She was soft-spoken and had big green eyes and short blonde hair with a ribbon tied in it. She was definitely cute. “Technically we are, but most of us moved to America or our parents did. A lot of us are from different places.”

The boy added, “It won’t be long until you become whitewashed too.”

Arthur scoffed. “I won’t. I’ve had English culture hammered into my mind.”

“But not in your heart.”

“Oh my goodness, that was so lame.” the first girl said. “But yeah, that’s true. The American ways are so contagious. Especially if you’re with that guy, Alfred.”

“Alfred?” This was the first time he heard a new name. And even more bizarre that it didn’t have a ‘Sir’ or ‘IX’ to go with it.

“He’s the most popular boy here. He’s in another class.” the cute girl said.

“His name is Alfred F. Jones. If you call him by his full name, you have to use ‘F.’ too. It’s the rule.” the boy with fake glasses said.

“What does the ‘F’ stand for?” Arthur asked.

“No one knows, but there are theories it means ‘Freedom.’” the long-haired girl said. “He’s kinda annoying, actually. I always hear him laughing and shouting.”

Arthur was getting tired of not knowing _their_ names, and he wasn’t surprised they hadn’t introduced themselves by now. Usually they either presented themselves or everyone knew your name. That was in England. “Speaking of names,” he said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I have your names.”

They laughed, saying how silly of them that they hadn’t said who they were. Finally the three had names to match with their faces. The one who first spoke, who had nice hair and a warm grin, was Elizabeta Héderváry. The boy’s name was Roderich Edelstein. Arthur wasn’t sure about it but he noticed something flamboyant about him. The small, kind girl was Lili Zwingili. The two girls were sweet and charming, but something told Arthur that inside they were truly hardcore and not as girly as they were perceived.

“Enough about us. Tell us about you! What’s Arthur Kirkland doing here?” Elizabeta said, leaning in towards Arthur with a craving look in her eyes. She was a wild one, all right.

“Well, my father sent me here to get an education appropriate for leading the family business.” Arthur said. “That’s really about it.”

“Aren’t you a year older than us?” Lili asked.

“Yes, but my education is equivalent to your level.” Arthur explained. “I feel like I should have been placed with the 3rd years anyway, so I can learn at an even faster rate.”

“I don’t know if you’d want to learn with the 3rd years.” Roderich said. “There are a lot of cliques and crews and gangs in that year, and they’re intimidating. You don’t need to worry about the homework and tests, it’s all about the other kids. And coming in when the year's already started - no offense, but you won't fit in and you'll be a target,”

“You were almost put with them, Roderich.” Elizabeta said. “Your birthday’s just after the cutoff date.”

“I’d rather stay with you guys.” Roderich said, and then looked around and out the window. “Hey Lili, where’s your brother? He usually comes in around now to pick you up when school ends.”

She shrugged. “Vash is hanging out with Feliks, Toris, Eduard and Raivas today.”

Elizabeta said, “What? I thought he hates them.”

“You know how he is.” Roderich said, and then turned to Arthur. “If you meet him, you should get on his good side. He’s so neutral to everyone, but it wouldn’t hurt to be his friend.”

Lili rolled her eyes the tiniest bit and scowled. She packed quite a bit of sass in that tiny body. “Says the one who hates Vash.”

“I tried to make things up, okay? I even spent money to get him a gift and take him out!”

“Talk to him, today. For me, Roderich. I can’t be torn between you and my brother!”

“Fine. I need Toris’ notes to copy anyway, so I’ll chat with him meanwhile.”

Elizabeta said, “I don’t think Toris would let you copy. He’s too busy daydreaming about Natalya.”

“Natalya?” Arthur asked. He was so focused on listening to them he nearly forgot to converse himself. He remembered seeing her name on the class roster. “You mean that–”

“Girl at the back who looks really scary? Yeah. That’s her.” They turned to the back of the classroom to look at Natalya. She also had long hair, but it was platinum blonde and held back by a bow. She was talking to a boy with silky blond hair with one random, long curl and glasses.

“That boy doesn’t seem to be afraid of her.” Arthur said. He assumed that most couldn’t get past that hostile face of hers, when in fact, she must’ve been quite nice.

“Matthieu’s nice to everyone.” Elizabeta said. “I heard that he eats pancakes and bacon like, everyday, so he must be from Canada.”

“What?” Arthur asked. He had eaten pancakes and bacon too (in secret so he wouldn't be called a greasy American pig) but he was surely from England.

“You know, all Canadians are nice and eat pancakes with maple syrup…?” Elizabeta tried to explain, and desperately added an ‘eh’ so he would understand it. “Arthur, do you know what a stereotype is?”

Arthur was dumbfounded. A strange new word! Maybe he was far from educated after all. “Stereo…type? Is that some kind of modern technology?”

All three gaped at him, then shared a look with each other and smiled. “Well,” Elizabeta slowly said, “A stereotype is a…generalization of a group of people or ethnicity. We use it in a funny, harmless way.”

Lili asked, “Don’t your parents make jokes like that?”

Arthur bit his lip as he remembered all the _jokes_ his father made about other people. It wasn’t even humorous. Sometimes they made jokes about him and laughed hysterically, and all he could do was laugh along and hide his hurt feelings. “They do, but I wouldn’t call it funny…They’re racist, if that’s what you mean.”

Roderich asked, “I know we already asked this, but why would they send you here?”

“Probably so they could consider me as despicable as Americans.”

There was an awkward silence. Elizabeta glared at Roderich with a look as to say, _You asshole, why did you ask that?_ There was a moment of panic between them, as they were unsure what to do.

Lili took the lead and spoke to Arthur in her soft, sweet voice. “Hey, you should hang out with us sometime. It’ll prove to you we’re not as bad as we seem.” Roderich and Elizabeta sighed and slid down in their seats. Leave it to Lili to pick up the pieces.

Arthur smiled, a genuine, warm grin on his face instead of the calm and collected, polite gesture plastered on his face at home. “I don’t think that of you, and I’d love to.” Erika smiled back, and a warm feeling filled Arthur. It was a long time since affection was returned to him. He hoped there would be more of this in America.

The bell rung, signaling the end of the school day. The students gathered their books and supplies and secured it in their bags. It looked rehearsed, what not with their matching outfits and matching belongings. But Arthur knew there was an unbelievable energy in the air, none like he had felt at the quiet, slow-moving dinner parties he had. There was lots of individuality, especially among the hairstyles. And this was only one classroom. There were almost a hundred more classrooms like this, with kids in them that could do whatever they wanted. This was his first taste of freedom.

“Hey, Arthur,” Roderich said, snapping him out of his newfound appreciation, “Do you want us to give you a tour?”

He shook his head. “No, thank you. I’m used to exploring big places alone.” He winced at how much sadder it sounded than in his head, and the three noticed it too. They decided to ignore it, say goodbye, and head out the door to continue their plans.

Arthur only knew the route from his classroom to his dorm and its surroundings. Since he had time, he took tiny detours here and there. He found his shady patch where the planters were dense with trees and bushes and flowers. He slowed down to admire the nature. He was so lost in his uncaged thoughts he barely noticed the footsteps coming behind him.

Suddenly, he was slammed into the wall behind him, and he hit his head, hard. He hoped that a healing wound from his father wouldn’t reopen and gush out blood. His face was smashed into the brick wall and he couldn’t see who was behind him. He felt a nail from the bulletin board dig into him, not exactly piercing his skin but making it painful. It tore his uniform sweater and he wished he had bought some spares before. _If_ he got out of this, he would for sure get more.

“So what’s Arthur Kirkland doing at W Academy?” someone growled into his ear. “And more, what’s he doing with the 2nd years, and talking to that puta Roderich?” Puta? What’s a puta?  This person also had an accent unlike his own, so like what Lili said, he was probably from a different country.

“Maybe his daddy don’t want him anymore.” another sneered. From the way he pronounced his words, Arthur recognized him to be German, but all the Germans he met were deeply serious; this one had arrogance in his voice. The captor laughed, and Arthur had to contain himself from laughing too. It was the strangest laugh he had ever heard. The first one pinned him to the wall even harder as the second one pressed against him and squeezed his arm tightly. He felt his arm going numb from the excruciating pain of nearly being dislocated. Something cold grazed his cheek, and he took in shallow breaths as a blade traced his skin, threatening to penetrate it anytime. He saw silver hair in the corner of his hair, a color so unusual to belong to hair. “What did little perfect Arthur do to lose that silver spoon in his mouth?” The grip on his arm tightened. He felt like his arm was going to break or be pulled out of its socket.

“Stop, stop.” a new voice said, and Arthur’s eyes widened. “Arthur’s far from perfect. It’s a wonder why he’s here at this perfect school.” He struggled to loosen himself from those who kept him down. He knew that voice all too well. “Well, maybe I do know. He does lack a certain… _je ne sais quoi_.” That did it. Arthur thrashed around, wanting to be face-to-face with that bastard. He still was crushed between the wall and the others, despite his efforts. All he could do was clench his teeth and spit out the name he hated with all his heart.

“Francis.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Make all the predictions you want, not even I will know how it'll turn out. #improvwriting Also thank you for reading so far! If you're just started reading now, after like late October, you are reading my final edition. If you're been reading since like August, oops. You should read it again...since technically, this is the 10th Edition.


	3. Family Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur has hated Francis for as long as he can remember. Born natural enemies, they bickered far more than family should. He was relieved of him when he moved away, but he's stuck at W Academy with him. Francis, and his friends from the Bad Touch Trio – as they called themselves – gang up on him. Competition for Kirkland Corporation is acknowledged, besides the other companies that have no chance. This threat comes from within the family. Arthur is saved by a well-known hero who wants to be his friend. Exhausted from the day, he retires to his dorm only to find the action is far from over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was a pretty killer summary, damn. I tried to capture America's energetic, obnoxious, oblivious personality as much as possible. Also, I kind of butcher the age thing from this point. I tried to make the older countries have older roles, like Japan and China being teachers, and how some countries are pretty old, like the BTT and even the Nordics (idk how to integrate them into the story, sorry, just proving my point) in higher classes. FYI, this is an American school, so there are 4 years. I really have no idea how this entire plot will wrap up and what role the countries will play in it.

Francis clapped and laughed. “Oh, so you _do_ remember me!” He motioned to the others, and they let go of him. “What gave me away, my beautiful voice or my fluency in the language of love?” He grinned, and Arthur nearly gagged at the way that flirty smile always played on his lips.

Arthur rubbed his arm, trying to get the blood flow back. “I could tell by the way I want to throw up.” Francis raised an eyebrow, and the others each grabbed an arm to keep him in place, but Arthur slapped them away. “Don’t touch me, fuckers.” If anyone had heard him say that in England, his father would have grabbed his tongue and slice it off. The boys let go of him, but they formed a tight circle around him. There was no way he could escape, let alone outrun them.

“Excuse your French, Arthur!” Francis said, laughing at his own terrible joke. The silver-haired boy next to him was petting a bird. Arthur was surprised. He was almost certain there was a no pets rule, even if the Headmaster owned three dogs. But still, he had a little, yellow canary follow him around. Francis didn’t like it either and he glared at him. “Gilbert, please.”

Gilbert – as his name was – sighed, and kissed the bird upon its head. Arthur was no longer amused. It was just getting creepy. He whispered something to the bird and it took off, flapping its tiny wings as it disappeared into the sky.

They seemed to be distracted by a _bird flying away_ so Arthur got back on track. “What are you doing here?”

Francis laughed. Arthur wished he would stop giggling at everything he said. What the hell was so funny? “What am _I_ doing here? You really think I’d come here after you, that I’d _copy_ you?”

The third one (Arthur hadn’t found out his name) grinned. He had messy brown hair and eyes that were hazel green. He must have been really mischievous because he had several scabs and bandages on his body. That didn’t wear down how optimistic this guy was. Still, he was pretty scary. “Francis is gonna take over Kirkland Corporation.”

Francis pouted. “Antonio, you gave away my plan! But, yes, it’s true; I will be the next successor.”

“Impossible!” Arthur shouted. “You’re not directly related, Bonnefoy.”

Gilbert snickered. “He’s still a Kirkland.”

“Still,” Arthur said, “You’re only a cousin. I’m the _son_.”

“You honestly think your parents would give Kirk Co.”–Arthur hated the nickname Francis gave the company–”to you? I’m still family, you know. It’s not fair to have all that money to yourself.”

“That’s all you care about? Money?” Arthur yelled. He clenched his fists in anger.

“Oh, but of course!” Francis leaned in and whispered in his ear, “And if you think you have a thing with that maid Michelle, she’s as good as mine.”

Arthur knew Francis dated a lot of girls, and he knew how much they changed after seeing him. But if he tried to lay a finger on her, he was just being an asshole. “Don’t you _fucking dare_ –” He lunged at him, but Francis only smiled as Gilbert and Antonio pulled him back. He felt like a dog on a leash, furiously trying to attack something out of his reach.

“That’s how far you’d go for her? Pity.” Gilbert kicked the back of Arthur’s knees, and he crumpled to the ground, still glaring into Francis’ eyes. “And since you made the first move, you can have it.”

 _Have what?_ Francis suddenly swung around and his fist connected with the side of his chin. _Oh._ Arthur’s head sharply turned with the impact, and pain swelled in his cheeks.

Francis howled with laughter and danced around, holding his throbbing fist. “Ow, Arthur, you really have a hard head, don’t you?” He only smiled and giggled as he punched him, which only made Arthur more pissed off.

When the others’ guard seemed to be down, Arthur yanked his arm free from Antonio and swung his fist into Gilbert’s stomach. He flew back a few feet, surprised. He turned around and tried to throw one at Antonio, but he was quick and caught his hand.

“Don’t mess with a Spaniard.” He said, with a new expression on his face. Arthur was somewhat frightened when Antonio was angry. He twisted his arm behind his back, result in a small scream from Arthur, and he pushed him into Gilbert. He resonated off him from the momentum and fell to the floor. Before he could move, he felt hands slip around his neck and lift him into the air. Arthur clawed at Gilbert’s hands as he dangled helplessly above them.

“Nice job, _amis_.” Francis said, putting an arm on each of their shoulders. “I couldn’t have done it without you.” With that, he made one last hit, aimed at Arthur’s stomach. He knocked the wind out of his lungs, and since he was being choked and suffocating, his oxygen supply was dangerously low. He started gasping as his vision started to blacken around the edges.

“Leave him alone.” someone said. Arthur couldn’t see him because he was on the verge of blacking out.

“Go away, Alfred,” Francis hissed. “2nd years aren’t even supposed to be in this area.”

“And you’re not supposed to be doing that. Let him go, Beilschmidt. I’ll have you know I have a picture of you guys ganging up on him.” He waved his phone in his hand, and Gilbert dropped Arthur. He literally landed on his ass, but he was alive. He coughed violently as he tried to listen what Alfred had to say. _Wait, Alfred?!_ “You know this school has zero tolerance for bullying. I could easily spread this picture and you three could be in big trouble. I’m talking worse than expulsion, yo. You all come from big businesses, correct? Everyone knows you want to take over Kirkland Corporations, Bonnefoy. How would your folks react to this? And I’ve met your mom, Carriedo. She’s scary, ain’t she? I’d be afraid to see how she’ll react when she worked so hard to get her son in here.” Arthur saw Carriedo wince and look down. He’d never seen the name Carriedo in the business world. Maybe he wasn’t as rich as the other kids. For a split second, he felt sorry for him. He’d never have to _work_ for something, he could just buy it. But his mother wouldn’t put his future as her goals.

“And I saw Braginsky monitoring the halls nearby,” Alfred added. “Do you want your faces to be pounded into dust?” All three tensed up. Whoever this Braginsky was, he was one intimidating guy. “I thought so. Not even I would try to joke with the Braginsky trio. Get out of here.”

The three grumbled as they walked away, and purposely bumped into Alfred. He looked as serious as they did, but the moment he saw Arthur, he grinned and his eyes light up like the Fourth of July.

“Hi, Kirkland!” Alfred said. “You okay, dude?”

Arthur just stared at him. _This is who they were talking about?_ He was popular alright, but unbelievably friendly. He enunciated different syllables and had a rich, mellow blandness to his voice. _Is this a true American?_ He had short fluffy blond hair with a massive cowlick sticking up, which looked impossible to smooth down, even with gel. It was nice, like everyone had a unique hairstyle to represent their personalities.

For America, that rebellious strand probably meant he wasn’t going to go away anytime soon.

“Earth to Kirkland, hey!” Alfred said. waving his hand in front of him. He was practically in his face now, and he was watching him through his big, sky blue eyes hidden behind eyeglasses. He grinned and laughed. _Is he on drugs? Why is he so happy?_ Arthur thought, slowly backing away from him.

“Wh–get off me!” Arthur shouted, quickly scooting away.

“Are you hurt? If we have any physical proof we can get them busted.”

“Why don’t you show them the picture?”

“Oh, about that…” Arthur looked up at him, not expecting what he was going to hear next. “To tell you the truth, I was bluffing.”

“You what?!” Arthur shouted.

“It was a good bluff, then! I’m not so good at threatening people.” Alfred nervously laughed and scratched the back of his neck. He saw Arthur’s clueless face and shrugged.

“Aren’t you popular? Isn’t that some sort of power you can use?”

Alfred laughed, and it was kind of obnoxious but it was a cute and contagious laugh. Arthur was shocked to find himself smiling. “I wish it was, bro. Actually I try to avoid them. A few months ago they were trying to make me an ally – I don’t know why they’d need an ally – but I refused, so they made me their enemy. I was this close to becoming mashed Jones when their teacher, Mr. Wang, found us. He only gave them detention.”

“Who’s Braginsky?” Arthur knew it was a random question, but he had to know.

“Ah, yes. Ivan Braginsky. He’s way taller than like, anyone else. Except for that 4th year Oxenstierna.” Arthur reminded himself that an energetic person like Alfred talked for obnoxious lengths and tended to get lost in his own words. “Oh yeah, what I was saying, if you need a visual, he’s almost twice as tall as Mr. Honda.” Arthur suspected he was exaggerating. Or was he not? “He looks nice from far away, and then he looks at you with that face. And don’t mess with his sisters, Katyusha and Natalya. They’re the only ones safe from his wrath, but that’s who he protects.”

Arthur nodded along. It was nice hearing these stories. It was better than the boring tales he heard at dinner. His attention drifted away and he was smiling and looking into the distance. Alfred pointed to Arthur’s chest, snapping him back to reality when he saw his finger near him. “Hey, is that a cut? Don’t tell me they cut you!”

He looked down. His clothes had been messed up and a bit of his chest was exposed. There was a long line running down his body. “Oh, no. That’s a scar.”

“Wicked. Where’d you get it?”

Normally, he wouldn’t tell anyone about it because he feared if they found out he told. Maybe this was different. “My father.” He quietly admitted.

“Dude…” Alfred said, gazing into the atmosphere. It was a beautiful day, not too sunny, not too cloudy. It was a heat wave compared to England’s gloomy skies. “I guess being a Kirkland doesn’t have all its perks.”

This was getting too personal, too fast. He could find out too much about him, and it could be used as a weapon. Arthur muttered, “You’re right. It doesn’t.” He stood up quickly and began to walk away. “Please, you should leave me alone.”

“What, why? I think we should be friends!” Alfred called. Arthur shook his head no. “I don’t think you got a proper tour either, dude!” Arthur didn’t even want to think about straying from his main path again. He should have just walked from his dorm room to class, and never stop to talk to anyone.

“I’m fine, just go away!” Arthur walked quickly now, and was relieved Alfred didn’t try to follow him. What a mistake he had made, letting him find out his father hit him. He made his way to his dorm room, thinking about just sleeping the night away. _What a day._ A first day, too. He stopped outside the door and was about to get out his key when he heard footsteps. _Not this again, please._ He reluctantly turned his head and groaned.

“I thought I told you not to follow me, Alfred!” Arthur shouted down the hallway to him who was waving excitedly.

“What? I live here.” _Oh, great. He’s my next door neighbor too._

Arthur reached in his pocket, but came out empty-handed. He slapped his forehead, remembering that he’d left his keys inside the room. He was locked out! If he tried to get another key, they’d overlook him for being forgetful and so clumsy on the first day.

“Left your keys? That’s alright. I got it, bro.” Alfred said, and unlocked the door for him. He saw Arthur glare at him, but was confused. “I said, I live here, silly!” He strolled in their dorm and climbed up the ladder to his top bunk and flopped on his bed.

Arthur only stood in the doorway, boiling with anger. He was quite annoying and he didn’t want to be friends with him. Now he knew too much and is potentially dangerous, and not to mention sharing a dorm with him. _He’s not my neighbor, no, he’s actually my roommate!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear, everytime I "introduce" a new character, I don't give away their names right away...and end up using obscure adjectives. But I'm sure you figured out who they were...right? It'd be best that you are familiar with the characters of Hetalia (and their human names) so you know what's happening. If you don't know who I'm talking about, feel free to comment and I'll reply immediately! Or comment anything.
> 
> Please comment.  
> Please. ;-;


	4. Blue Blazer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur continuously denies he isn't friends with Alfred, and has absolutely nothing to do with him, not even the way he makes him feel when they're together. Alfred, on the other hand, starts to question things as well. Something tells them there's a lot more to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, character's roles are completely wack. Please don't let it ruin the story. I never actually intended to include the clubs part (but I did, lol), so yes, there are clubs. But England probably won't join the Magic Club. Also the Newspaper Club theoretically doesn't exist because Japan is a teacher, and Germany and Italy have different roles (will be introduced soon).

"Why are you here?" Arthur asked. He glared at Alfred as he took off his shoes and smoothed out his bed sheets.

"I was here first, loser. I knew that you were gonna live with me, so I tidied up, just for you!" Arthur knew he wasn't wrong. He knew he had a roommate, but he didn't know it would be _him_. “See, you’re special! Hey, you gonna come in or sleep outside? Either way I’m cool." Arthur awkwardly shuffled in and closed the door. "Aw, dude, your uniform has a big hole in it!"

Arthur mentally cursed. The student body office was closed by now, and this was his only set! Alfred read his expression. "Don't freak out. I've got a bunch of spares. I'm a little taller than you, but I know ones that are a little small on me, so it should fit you like a glove."

As he was turned around, Arthur noticed he looked vaguely familiar. "Say, you look like that boy in my class, Matthieu Williams."

Alfred laughed. "He should. He's my little brother, after all." Arthur questioned it, since they were in the same year. And they had different last names, but he didn't ask because it probably came with a long story answer. If he said they were brothers, he would believe it. Unless he meant it in a friend way. He still didn’t fully understand his use of ‘bro’ and his slang.

Alfred grabbed Arthur's hand and dragged him to his dresser. Arthur blushed when he did. While Alfred rummaged through his clothes, he stared at their hands. Did he have to hold hands so intimately? He could have called him over, or grabbed his arm, even casually take his hand. So why does he have to intertwine his fingers with Arthur's? It was strange, but it felt weirdly nice.

Alfred took his other hand and put it under Arthur's sweater. He accidentally went under his dress shirt and touched his bare skin. His touch sent tingles up his spine, and a small gasp escaped his lips. Arthur pulled away quickly out of embarrassment, leaving Alfred's hand dangling by his side. Why hadn't he moved away earlier? "What are you doing?" He hissed.

"Taking off your sweater, duh." Alfred said nonchalantly.

"I can do that myself!" Arthur screamed. _Who does he think he is, holding my hand and trying to take off my clothes? Pervert!_ He grabbed the hems in two hands and took it off in a swift motion. He only wore the white button-up under and blushed again when he saw Alfred staring.

"H-here, try this." Alfred said and quickly looked away, holding something blue. Arthur stretched his arm, but groaned when he reeled back in pain. He didn't know what Antonio did, but it was one painful move. Alfred held it open and helped Arthur put his arms through, one by one. Both of them were gushing. He muttered thanks.

Alfred stood back to admire his work. "I knew you'd look better in a blazer than a sweater. Take a look for yourself." He turned him around to face the mirror. He was right. It made him look classier. He loved the suit look. He pulled on the flaps of the blazer, making it tighter to mold to his body. He looked sharp.

“Take it off.”

“W-what?” Arthur whimpered. He absolutely loved it. This school certainly cared about their uniforms! It was more comfortable and more fashionable than the skin tight, frilly, puffy outfits he was forced to wear in his childhood. He was glad that his parents actually understood that as a teenager he could wear things that didn’t look so Victorian and actually follow the modern trends.

“It’s almost time for dinner, and we both don’t want food to get on that blazer.” Alfred grinned, for the infinite time that day, and poked Arthur in the stomach. Arthur was surprised his stomach didn’t hurt after the hits he took. Maybe he had built up a tolerance for pain over the years, which sounds as happy and sad as it is. He was more shocked by the way Alfred casually touched him all the time. He never really had physical contact with anyone, other than a handshake. He wasn’t used to it, but he absorbed his touch like a drug, and deep down, he wanted more. Alfred saw the blank look on Arthur’s face. As ignorant as he was, he noticed he tended to go into deep thought about every single little thing. “Dinner’s like, the only time you still need your uniform. Just the shirts needed. And then, afterwards, we can change into our casual clothing and PJ’s.”

“P-PJ’s?” Arthur asked. Words could barely come to his lips, but his mind was the opposite and could not shut up. Arthur had the feeling that Alfred knew that Arthur was overthinking every single thing he did. Why should he? He shouldn't care. Alfred was just an American who insisted on talking to him, and for some reason, Arthur replied. That was all. Just a boy. Arthur decided he should stop thinking altogether. _  
_

“You know…pajamas…nightclothes.” Alfred helped Arthur get out of the blazer and tossed it on his bed. “Dude, you’re like an old man. Come on, get out, be involved with us darn kids! Let’s go to the dinner hall early, maybe we can find some friends to talk to.”

Alfred took Arthur’s hand in his own and practically dragged him out of their room. Alfred was surprisingly strong. He had a toned body, and at first Arthur thought it was fat. Once again, their fingers were intertwined like a couple. Arthur’s cheeks flushed red. His dates that were set up with young ladies from important businesses never really worked out, but he’d never felt this feeling with any girl. _What is this feeling?_ Arthur asked himself. _Only he makes me feel this away – lightheaded and swoony but craving that rollercoaster adventure._

Alfred started to walk, but Arthur held him back. He was still wrapping his mind over the way their hands were. _Is it okay to hold hands like this?_ He kept asking himself. _Will people make rumors about this and ruin my reputation?_

“Alfred, uh, mate,” Arthur said, words haphazardly leaving his mouth as they ran, “Why do you have to hold my hand?” He’d only known him for a few hours, but he hadn’t seen him hold hands with anyone else. He hadn’t heard any stories like that from Roderich, Elizabeta, and Lili, either.

“Oh…” Alfred replied. “Should I stop?”

Arthur hesitated before saying, “No.” Alfred laughed, squeezing his hand even tighter. He led him down the corridor, passing some girls who were also heading that way. They saw them and started whispered amongst themselves, giggling.

“Aw, Alfred, who’s your little friend?” One of them said, trying not to overcome her words with laughter. She had long, brown hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her bangs were cut short to reveal honey golden eyes. She smiled, but only lightly.

 _Is she being mean? No, I think she’s just teasing. But teasing about what?_ Arthur thought. _Wait, I thought I said no thinking!_ “H-He’s not my friend!” He shouted as Alfred pulled him ahead.

The other girl yelled singingly, “Surrreee! Maybe you’re not friends…but something more!” She was really short, maybe the same height as Lili. She also had long brown hair with a stray curly strand (again with the unique hairdos) with pink flowers embedded.

The two stopped running once they got to the dinner halls. Alfred finally let go of Arthur’s hand, but it was only so he could put his hands on his knees and breathe.

“Who were those girls?” Arthur asked between pants.

“3rd year Lien Chung and 1st year Xiao Mei, I think they’re related to Mr. Wang in some way, but I dunno because he’s _so old._ ” Alfred answered. “I figured I should use first names around you more since you’re new and don’t really know everyone.”

“Hey, Alfred!” someone called. He and Arthur both turned around to see a boy with shoulder-length brown hair waving. He, along with a group of friends, met up with them.

“Yo, Laurinaitis!” Alfred yelled back. “This is the Kirkland. Um, Arthur, this is Toris, and these are his friends, Feliks, Eduard and Raivas.” They waved at him.

“Oh, no handshakes?” Arthur asked. He was so used to being formally introduced to important figures, and he realized how incredibly pretentious he sounded. He cringed, hoping they wouldn’t take it as offense. He was only surprised; he wasn't trying to be prestigious.

“We don’t really do handshakes in America, but sure!” Toris shook his hand firmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Arthur Kirkland.”

“Please,” Arthur said, cheeks flushing a deep shade of red, “Don’t refer to me as Kirkland. I hate the name.” Out here, the Kirkland name meant he was supposed to be treated like a prince. He wanted to be regular. At home, Kirkland was his taboo. He never wanted to hear about his father again.

“You’ll be one of us, sooner or later.” Alfred said, slinging an arm around Arthur’s shoulders. “Hey, where’s Zwingili? I thought he was gonna hang with you guys.”

“He’s _finally_ talking to Roderich again.” Eduard said. “I wonder what happened in his head.” Arthur smirked, knowing that it was Lili who made Roderich talk to him.

“Quit talking, they’re letting students inside now.” Feliks said. “I want to get food and head back already so I can redecorate my dorm room.” Arthur heard Toris sigh and mumble, “Again? You just painted the walls pink…”

Arthur realized he would be eating with many students surrounding him, and possibly the entire school crammed into one room. He thought of Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio taunting him from across the room. They couldn’t do much when they weren’t alone, but still…

“Alfred?” Arthur nervously asked. “Will the 3rd years be here?” Alfred started to question him, but stopped and gave him a comforting smile. “No, they eat in a separate room.” He replied, lifting a great weight of anxiety of his shoulders. He no longer worried about impressing his parents (it wasn’t like they showed any pride in him anyway) but about satisfying all the student’s expectations of him. Not to mention he already had a list of people to avoid that he made on the first day.

“If the 3rd years dined here…” Raivas didn’t finish his sentence and his shaky voice trailed off. He was really short for a boy, so he figured he was an easy target. Eduard whispered to him, reassuring him he was safe with him. Arthur heard the name “Ivan” in his words. He assumed if he got in Ivan Braginsky’s way he would never escape his doom, no matter how famous he appeared to be.

Inside the 2nd years’ dining hall, there were a few dozen round tables, draped in fine cloths with matching chairs. Arthur hadn’t expected the room to look so fancy, and felt bad that he looked down on everything other than his own lifestyle. It was an academy for rich and intelligent people, of course they could afford expensive get-ups. Arthur mentally slapped himself for thinking this was of "poor taste". He was just used to an  _extremely_ wealthy lifestyle. _  
_

“Ah, I never get tired of seeing how beautiful this place is.” Feliks said in awe. “I just wish they’d switch up the design once in a while. I can’t wait to see our dining room when we’re 3rd years.” Arthur weakly smiled. He loved this school, but would he stay here for only a year? Feliks turned to Toris. “Hey, rumor has it the 4th years eat in a restaurant in itself, and sometimes kids from the Gourmet Club cook there.”

“Really? Personally, I’d prefer a homey place, with simply homemade stuff.” Toris said. “But that’s just me.”

“Gourmet Club? There are clubs here?” Arthur asked. The studies seemed to be fairly easy, and dinner didn’t take much of their free time. The kids have got to do something else, right?

“Yeah! Lots of clubs.” Arthur said. “Hey, who knows, maybe you’ll explore your personality and find something you love.”

“Are you in any?”

“Me? Sorta.” Alfred blushed. “I, uh, made a club with myself in it. It’s not acknowledged as official, though. I-It’s stupid.”

“What was it about?”

“N-nothing! It was nothing.” He laughed, pulling at his collar.

“Hm, what was that?” Eduard asked, grinning. “You’re always promoting your Hero Club? What are you, embarrassed, now?” He elbowed him in the side. Alfred smacked him and told him to shut up, and Eduard said something that Arthur couldn’t hear, but Alfred blushed even harder and harshly whispered, “Okay, yes, I do, please don’t talk about it! I don’t want him to know about my cl–”

He was interrupted by giggles coming from Arthur. Yes, Arthur. Alfred completely lost his train of thought and let go of Eduard and watched Arthur laugh. “Hero Club? That’s so funny! You sound like a loser if it’s just you in it!”

“Yeah, funny, haha…” Alfred said. It was kinda mean like he had offended the entire club, but since it was Arthur, he let it slide. “Hey, you laughed.”

“I guess I did.” Arthur said, smiling. The group took their seats at a table and unfolded their cloth napkins and set it on their laps. “You know what? I’ll join your Hero Club.”

“R-really?” Alfred shouted, almost knocking over his glass. He was ecstatic that someone wanted to join his club, that _Arthur_ wanted to.

“Yeah, maybe it’ll come in handy for experience when I join another club.”

“H-hey, that’s mean!” He whined. Arthur responded with another laugh. Alfred was definitely confused. While they waited for their food, he sat back in his chair and tried to observe him from a distance. _He’s so weird._ He thought. _For a dude raised in the super rich ways of England, he’s really chill. Maybe he’ll find his true self here. I’m kinda afraid to see what that’ll be like. Arthur has a lot of insecurities about himself for some reason, and I don’t know what they are or how he came to doubt himself so much. I hope he’ll come to love them like I do. Until now, I was jealous of him. He has two parents and he’s rich…and stuff. But I never knew they were so unloving towards him. I still don’t know the true reason why he’s here. Maybe he doesn’t know either. I want to find out more about his parents, but more about him._

_I, Alfred F. Jones, have made it my goal to become friends with Arthur Kirkland._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I'm pretty sure you know this is/will be a USUK fic, so this techincally is not a spoiler. At the end, I originally intended for Alfred to confess to himself that he likes Alfred...but it's been literally a day since they met. Sounds like Romeo and Juliet. The whole going-too-fast thing, not the let's-kill-ourselves.
> 
> I have no idea where this is going.


	5. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's insecurities cause him to misunderstand Alfred's intentions and slip into an emotional breakdown. His fear blinds him and he believes Alfred is his father, making him delirious and mentally unstable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were expecting a fluff chapter like last time with those subtle hints of homo, you were wrong. And the next chapter will be even worse, as it will delve into their subconscious, revealing more of the plot, in a way.

Alfred lazily reached out a hand and dabbed the crumbs on his plate. He brought it up to his mouth and licked the last morsels of their meal off his fingers. Feliks let out a belch, and Toris scolded him, while Raivis laughed. None of them really talked after eating, since they were so full it made them sleepy. However they chatted a lot during the meal, and to everyone’s horror Feliks and Alfred rambled with food still in their mouths.

“Hey, Arthur. You should be glad you came this time of year.” Eduard said. “At the beginning, there was a food shortage, so we couldn’t dine as fancily as now. Bet you’re used to tables of food, huh?”

Toris added, “I bet your food was ten times better.”

Arthur shrugged. “Not really, actually. I’d say this meal was better than all the food in England.” He saw them share looks of confusion. “You see, I never truly realized it until now, English food is kind of terrible. Everything is bland, and I basically lived off of fish and chips and tea. Lots of tea.”

“Who would’ve known?” Alfred said. An employee arrived with a cake for the group to share. When the others were distracted, he leaned in close to Arthur and said, “You should really tell the staff about what happened earlier today. It doesn’t happen a lot, so if there’s any sign of it, Headmaster Beilschmidt will jump your ass.”

“Beilschmidt?” Alfred called people by their last names, but it couldn’t possibly be…

“Yep, and I guess you figured out by now, Gilbert’s his son. He’s a huge prankster and will harass anyone, but the only reason he hasn’t be expelled is because you know…his dad.”

“You really care that much?” Alfred nodded. “You don’t need to. I can handle it on my own, I always have. It’s okay, Alfred, really.” Suddenly his piece of cake wasn’t so appetizing anymore. _Is he really that worried about me?_  He watched the others gobble up the dessert. _He’s not even my friend._ The chocolate turned to mush in his mouth and slid down his throat, no longer having taste. _Why would he be so interested in me?_  His stomach churned and his head began to throb.

_He’s only in it for the money, isn’t he? He doesn’t care about me, I'm just a spoiled brat who can’t even please his parents._

“I-I’m finished eating.” Arthur announced, getting up from his seat and pushing his half-eaten cake away. “I’m going to go back to my room.”

“What? What’s wrong?” Toris asked.

“I’m, uh, f-feeling ill.” He said. He wasn’t lying, nor telling the whole truth. He was disgusted, by the food and everyone and himself. He ran out of the dining hall and out into the open air. There was no doubt about it; Arthur knew by the way the air smelled so familiar. It would rain soon. His footsteps echoed off the cobbled stone as water began to stain it. He slipped once, scraping his chin on the pavement. His skin was still tender and ripped open. Soon the ground was covered in water mixed with drops of his blood. Tears swelled up in his eyes. He didn’t know if it was from pain or his false hope.

“Arthur!” He heard someone call, but he didn’t look behind him. “Arthur, wait!” He ran faster now, running towards nowhere. He just wanted to leave. He didn’t care if he had to run throughout his empty house, trying to hide from his father for the rest of his life. At least he knew their intentions.

He climbed the slippery stairs to his dorm room, one hand gripping the railing and the other clamping over his bleeding cheek. He knew his shirt was wet and bloody, but it didn’t matter. Alfred could always lend him some clothes. Alfred. That name was always on his mind now, and it had only been a few hours since they’d met. Arthur turned the door handle, but wasn’t surprised it was locked. He had left his keys, again. He backed up and rammed into the door. It was a useless move, but he repeated it, and slid down to the floor, finally bursting into tears.

“Arthur, are you okay? Why did you…” Alfred saw bloodstains on the door, then traced it to a crying boy curled into a ball. “Arthur…” He stretched out to touch him, but on instinct, Arthur brought his arms up to defend his head. Alfred was crushed at the sight. It was a stance he’d developed to protect himself from the damage of his beatings.

“Don’t touch me!” Arthur screamed, saying it over and over again until it was a sloppy mess of syllables. “You pretend that you care, but you don’t. No one cares. I’m just Arthur Kirkland, heir of the billionaire company, soon to inherit loads more of wages. You’re just like Francis, charming everyone with your charming bullshit and your charming words, but really, you only do it for your benefit. You’re despicable, like all of them. You only want money. Well, I’ll give it to you. I always have a lot more, right? I have money. I’m rich but I’m worthless. No one finds me desirable other than my father’s fists. I can only trust myself and my wallet.”

Every word that left Arthur’s lips hit Alfred like a knife to the stomach. It hurt, being compared to Francis; he knew how much Arthur hated him. He didn’t know their rivalry had had rooted down to the company. But it hurt more watching him break down like this. He thought that Arthur could escape his lonely world, but now it only came back to strike when he was having fun.

“I’m sorry, Father. Please don’t hurt me.” Arthur mumbled, which caught his attention. His eyes were shut tight and he moved his hands to cover certain points of his body. “Please, not there, Father. It hasn’t healed yet.” He screamed in pain, like someone was actually injuring him. Somewhere, along the line, Arthur had triggered himself and was convinced he was back at home.

“Arthur!” Alfred shouted. “No one’s going to hurt you!” He bent down to grab his shoulder. Whatever he was going through, it wasn’t real. He was clearly awake but wasn’t in this world. He was trapped in a nightmare. The second his fingertips touched him, Arthur shrieked and went into defense. He swung his fist at Alfred and punched him, right in the face. It was so unexpected Alfred stumbled and slammed his back into the balcony railing. If he was standing, he would have lost his balance and fallen a few stories.  
“Don’t touch me.” Arthur slowly rose, still hunched over and not as steady. He opened his eyes, but they didn’t look like the same lime green. They were sullen and much darker, perhaps the same shade his father’s eyes were. “Hey, Father,” He growled, eyes locked on Alfred. “I may be a worthless piece of shit that isn’t capable of running a business, but you taught me one thing. You taught me how to fight.”

Alfred was confused, panicking, and downright scared of this dark Arthur. Alfred barely had time to scramble to his feet when Arthur lunged at him. His hand connected with his nose, and it was only then that he realized blood was leaking out of his nose. He also noticed, as he ran around trying to avoid Arthur’s drunken hits, that he aimed for the same spot. It made it a little easier to predict his moves, but he knew all too well where he inherited his moves. His father probably hit Arthur in the same places so it would hurt so much it affected the entire body. He now saw why he was insecure about some spots on his body.

Arthur trapped him against the wall, and held him by the neck as he moved his jabs to other targets. Alfred refused to strike back, knowing it wasn't _him_ throwing these punches, and if he fought back, it would only hurt him more. He was taller than Arthur, but he was ultimately terrified of him in this moment. He knew if he didn’t stop him, he would bash him senseless, and who knows when he would come out of his hallucinations. “Arthur,” Alfred choked out, and with that some blood too, “Is this how you’ll be? Just like him, taking it out on whatever triggers you? Honestly, I’m disappointed in you.”

The last part seemed to slow Arthur down. His fist remained in the air, covered in blood, inches away from Alfred’s face. “D-Disappointed?” Alfred truly didn’t know what got to him. Either his parents used that phrase on him a lot, or that they had disciplined him through words and not actions. He felt like it was the former reason. Abuse doesn’t stop at physical, after all. Whatever happened, it had worked. Alfred stood there helplessly and watched tears slip down Arthur’s cheeks and into the cut on his chin. He didn’t seem to notice because once again he was broken, his heart shattered into pieces as he was pulled out of his angry illusions.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he passed out, falling onto Alfred’s chest.

“No one’s going to hurt you here, okay?” Alfred told him. He was sleeping but it wasn’t peaceful, as he kept whimpering and flinching like his father had followed him into his dreams. The rain started to come down harder now, and it fell sideways, defying the laws of gravity as it flew right at them even though they were under a roof. They were soaking wet, and blood was all over their white shirts, but Alfred didn’t care. What mattered was that Arthur was fine, and he held his frail body in his arms.

He hoisted the unconscious Arthur onto his shoulders and unlocked their dorm room. _You really need to remember to bring your keys,_  he thought. He laid him down onto his bunk and felt bad he was still in his soiled clothes, but it wasn’t like he could undress him. Alfred took off his shirt and tossed in the corner where his other dirty clothes were. He’d have a tough time explaining it to the staff in charge of the laundry. He changed into his pajamas – a grey t-shirt with his favorite baseball team logo on it, given from his father, and just his boxers – and brushed his teeth. He dried himself with a quick wipe from his towel and washed away the blood all over his face. There were no serious wounds but he knew it would be sore the next morning.

Alfred left their adjoining bathroom and checked on Arthur. He had gone into some sort of limbo, like he was between reality and his nightmare. He had gotten worse, he was fidgeting in his sleep and his breathing was ragged. Alfred wanted him to wake up from his delusions. He hated seeing him like this and wished he could do something to help. There was no reason to it; if you’re someone’s friend you should be there for him or her. No matter what. He remembered his mom used to kiss him on the forehead to calm him down whenever he was scared or mad, and it worked everytime without fail. Alfred sat on the edge of Arthur’s bed and brushed his wet hair out of his face. His breathing had slowed down, and was moving away from the illusions that clouded his mind. Alfred thought he looked really cute like this, when he looked peaceful. All he'd ever seen from him was some confused scowl. Arthur tossed and turned once more. He knew he was far from relieved.

He leaned over and pressed his lips to Arthur’s forehead. Immediately, he softened under his touch and relaxed. He stirred again and his eyelids fluttered open, startling him. Arthur saw Alfred just inches away from his face. The rain was deteriorating and the sun was setting, but it was still high enough to give off rays. Arthur’s breath was taken away by the sight of Alfred, glowing in the light. Like a guardian angel, were the first words that came to his mind.

“Alfred…” He breathed. “What…what happened? I was running, and…”

“Well, I don’t know what happened before it that caused you to take off,” Alfred said. “But I think you had an emotional breakdown. You went into this, like, other dimension. You thought your dad was there, but he wasn’t, so like–”

“Did I do that?” Arthur asked, panic rising in his voice. He traced Alfred’s face with his finger, and he winced as he touched his sensitive skin. He had injured someone, he did the exact opposite of what he promised himself to do.

“Arthur, you need to know–”

“Alfred, answer me, honestly. Did I cause that?”

“Okay, you did, but you didn’t know–” Arthur quickly sat up, only to reel over. Alfred wrapped his arms around him, steadying him. “Hey, don’t force yourself to get up.”  
Arthur started to cry. Alfred resisted the urge to tell him to quit crying, like he would with anyone else, but this was different. Everything about him was different. Arthur fell into his arms, hugging him back. His fingernails dug into his sides as he sobbed. His body racked with his cries. “I’m so sorry,” Arthur bawled. “I hurt you. I’m horrible. I’m just like my father.”

Arthur clung to him and refused to let go. “It’s not your fault.” Alfred said. “You only did this because he made this like you. He made you so insecure that this weakness built up inside of you. It’s only right you get rid of it sometime. The hits I took were from the pressure you were under. You could never fight back, so your fear did. You need to accept it so it won’t hurt anyone, including you.” Honestly, Alfred had no idea what he was talking about, but he hoped his little speech that he made up on the spot would work.

It did. “O-Okay, I believe you.” He sighed, and his shoulders fell, but he still didn’t let go. Alfred didn’t complain; he was surprised that Arthur would hug him back, but he sure loved the feeling, He felt a little sad when Arthur unclenched the fistful of shirt he was gripping so tightly. “A-Are you sure you’re okay? My hands really hurt and I couldn’t imagine what they did to you.”

“I’m fine, it’s not like you broke my nose or something.” He laughed, but Arthur didn’t because he still felt bad. “I’m worrying about _you_. That was a really big gash on your cheek. Go wash up in the bathroom.” Arthur nodded and left Alfred alone on his bed.

Alfred wished Arthur would tell him everything that was on his mind. He knew he had just met him, but Arthur had told him things he didn't tell anyone else. He doesn't _have_  anyone else to tell. Even more so, Alfred wanted Arthur to experience other things, ‘normal’ teenager things. He wanted him to love, to be loved.

“I’m too tired to change into my nightclothes, so I’ll just sleep in my pants. I hope that’s okay with you.” He heard Arthur say. His speech was muffled from the toothbrush in his mouth.

Alfred blushed at the thought of Arthur shirtless, and quickly stopped himself. What was he doing, thinking like this? Arthur was a _guy_ ; he'd never like Alfred back, he probably had a cute girl back in England. It wasn’t like things worked out between him and girls, either. Out of all the crushes he had, none of them gave him the butterflies like Arthur did. Could it really be…him?

He groaned, knowing he was over thinking it. What happened to the carefree-but-still-cared-at-the-same-time Alfred everybody knew and came to love? His gaze wandered around the room and locked on Arthur while he was washing his face. His heart raced when he saw him. He wasn’t just amazed by how toned his body was, but by the bruises and scars that littered his skin. Different shades of green, blue and purple painted the canvas that was his complexion. There were some fresh ones, from earlier that day, so they added contrast of bright pink. Those parts were swollen, bringing a sense of 3D to his masterpiece. Marks like these would belittle one, but in his case, Alfred thought he was beautiful. It showed he was strong and kept going. He was relieved he didn’t find any cut lines. It was too much for him when he found out that someone would turn to _that_.

Arthur felt Alfred’s eyes linger and burn into his skin. He turned around in embarrassment and covered himself with his arms. He looked at himself at grimaced at how frail and ugly he was. He was ashamed of his bruises, but he was fortunate that they always faded over time. He was glad his wounds were never too deep. However the damage was still there psychologically. He tore away from his reflection and stared at the sink, crossing his arms and wincing when he touched a sensitive bruise.

“You don’t have to hide it from me.” Alfred said, getting up from the bed. “I already know about them. You’re safe with me. Plus, I think bruises and stuff are really hot. Shows that you’re strong, like a warrior.” Warrior, the word echoed in his mind. Alfred rested his head on Arthur’s shoulder (he was tall enough to do it comfortably). He did feel better when he was with him.

“C’mon, dude, let’s go to bed.” Alfred said, smacking Arthur’s lower back to get him going. He saw Arthur’s face scrunch up in pain, but when he saw him staring, he faked a smile. “Did that hurt? I’m sorry, dude.”

“It’s just a bruise, I’ll be fine.” Arthur said, sliding under his bed sheets. He watched Alfred climb up the ladder to his bunk, and after hesitating for a few seconds, he softly added, “Alfred, thank you for today. You did a lot for me. I could never repay you for how much I put you through.”

Alfred grinned. “I got your back, dude. Seems like so much happened for one day, yeah?” He snuggled in his blankets and folded his hands on his stomach, waiting for his reply.

"Yeah."

"Alright, goodnight, Kirkland." _It might be him,_  Alfred said to himself as he was mesmerized by Arthur’s gorgeous green eyes.

“I said not to call me by Kirkland.” He heard him roll back onto his bunk. “Goodnight, Alfred.”

“Night, Arthur.” _It’s definitely him,_ were Alfred’s last thoughts before falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, yes, I realize it's quite a long chapter (3k words), but guess what, I was planning to write eveN MORE, but I decided to cut it off and put it in the next chapter. And I need to learn how to speed it up. All of my plot take place over like an entire school year, and all this crapola happens in a day. A friggin' day. Talk about traumatic.


	6. Tranquility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred and Arthur have symbolic dreams involving their past, and as the stupid teenagers they are, they miss the meaning completely. Alfred doesn't realize Arthur may be the one he's looking for, and Arthur doesn't realize he's going through something like the American Revolution - with him being Colonial America, his family being England, and Alfred being everything-that-set-the-fire-ablaze-idk-i-don't-remember-even-though-I-learn-about-it-every-year.

One night, Arthur tossed and turned more than usual. He was no longer tormented by images of his father in his head, but his subconscious took over his dreams. It was a hazy mix of memories and a message. The swirl in his mind cleared to show his reflection in the window.

 

> It was him, just a few years younger. He recognized the setting to be his old private grade school. There were barely a few hundred children attending since its tuition was one of the highest in all of the United Kingdom. However, that school was one of the best because superior professors could focus on teaching a small amount of students.
> 
> Arthur was watching a bird flap its wings in the sky. He imagined what it was like to be free. He wished he could feel the fierce wind carry him and observe the small world underneath him. “Arthur,” his instructor said, “When was the Declaration of Independence signed?”
> 
> “The Continental Congress signed it on the fourth of July in 1776, ma’am.” He answered without even thinking.
> 
> “So you know that and not the difference between King Henry VIII’s wives.” His teacher replied.
> 
> One of his classmates turned around and hissed, “You’re a betrayer of England.” Arthur looked down at his hands, cheeks burning red. Present-day Arthur was standing behind them, he was merely witnessing the scene and he was like a ghost. He smiled when he saw him from the past. He was small, and a little chubby, and it made him nostalgic thinking how big he’s grown.
> 
> Arthur knew that all his life he never hated Americans, his father did. Everyone did except for him, and he felt guilty for being different. Though they always commented on how the colonies should have listened to their king and stayed, he had a different opinion. He knew how it felt to have his life controlled. In fact, whenever they studied about the American Revolution, which was rarely, he secretly rooted for the countrymen. He was astonished how well the new nation flourished so quickly, especially how close they came to crumbling during the Civil War, and even nearing the modern times, like the Cold War or the Great Depression. The only time his peers appreciated America was for their help during World War Two, but became critical again, complaining about how they came too late. He loved studying about their democracy (and was relieved not everyone was named after their ancestors and gained several Roman numerals), and was shamed for worshiping the wrong country. Arthur did love England, but he longed for their sense of patriotism.
> 
> The bell rung and Arthur chased his smaller self out of the classroom. The same boy who had insulted him ran after him and cornered him at his cubby. “Hey, Arthur, you think your daddy would appreciate you drooling over that scum?” It wasn’t difficult for him to hide his dream because he never got a taste of America. According to his peers’ descriptions of Americans, he assumed chavs were the same thing, but on those few occasions he ran into them, he knew that chavs were simply douchebags.
> 
> Arthur nearly screamed when he heard little him speak in his squeaky voice. Oh, how miraculous puberty is. “I’ll have you know, mate,” He said, sounding like the stereotypical Englishman, “My father’s business is worldwide, and some of our best trading partners come from America, so of course I’d be obliged to appreciate their efforts. And I know your mum works at one of our branches, so what of it if I told my father her son is trying to harass me?” He was surprised how sassy he used to be; nowadays, he just kept to himself.
> 
> The little brat (whom had become a chav in the present day) grunted and ran away. Arthur saw himself smile, but he knew it would falter. His father wouldn’t give two shits over who bullied him. Why bother?

His dream ended abruptly and Arthur stared at the bed frame of Alfred’s bunk. Why would he dream about that? Was there some symbolism to it? He had completely forgotten about his crave for American history because now he longed for its culture and the people in it. He rolled onto his side and went back to sleep, missing the metaphor his dream gave him. He was America and England was well…England.

Alfred’s dreams weren’t much better. Usually he dreamed about digging up some spacecraft or on those weird cases, burgers replacing the players of his favorite team. This time, his memories revisited him. He dived into the abyss of his dark side that he forbade to show, for the sake of his cheerful personality.

 

> Alfred found himself standing on a hill, staring blankly into the distance. He was young again and barely tall enough to grab onto his father’s hand. _Oh, God, please not this._  He thought. He was in his six-year old body but still had his sixteen-year old mind. _Why do I have to relive this pain ten years later?_  He felt his eyes tear up, just like he had in the past. His vision was blurry as he bit his lip to refrain from all-out bawling, but he still knew exactly what was happening.
> 
> “Dad,” He said, squeezing his hand even tighter as he wiped his eyes and his runny nose on his other sleeve, “I…I feel empty.” Thunder rolled over for a few seconds, and soon the ground was mushy from the rain.
> 
> “I know,” His father replied. He was a strong and happy man, so whenever he broke down, it was horrible. Only this was one of the few things that could take down Mr. Jones. “I do too, son.” Alfred looked up at him, and wished he hadn’t. The face of his grieving father was something that he would always remember. He tore his eyes away and continued watching the black coffin being lowered into its 6-foot crevice. It was a small funeral, and most had already left but they were one of the only people who stayed.
> 
> “Dad,” He asked again, “When will I feel whole again?”
> 
> “There will be a time when you meet that someone. I’ll never forget the feeling I got when I first met your mother. You’ll get that same feeling too, Alfred, at some point in your life. For you, I can’t help but feel this person is different. In what way, I don’t know, because he or she will be alike to you. This person will intrigue you, and despite all the hardships, will come to love you too. Seems that every Jones falls in love first.”
> 
> Alfred’s father was known for having a sense of what the future will be like, so he believed every word he said. “When will I find her?”
> 
> “Her?” He laughed for the first time that day, and Alfred didn’t get why. Even after all these years, he was baffled to why he found it funny. “Like I said, there will be a time you find that someone. I don’t know when, nor you. Only fate arranges these opportunities for us, so when shown, we must take it.” He never understood what he truly meant, but at the time, he knew it was important and held on to his dad’s words.
> 
> _Dad, I think I know what you meant. I think I found that person._
> 
> The second he thought it, his father dissolved, to his horror. He had to remind himself this was just a dream, merely a memory, but he panicked. The scenery grew smaller and further from him, and everything turned to black. He was in another part of his dream, back at his home, and much older, maybe he was remembering something from a year or two ago.
> 
> He was in the kitchen, staring at his just-finished bowl of Lucky Charms. He hadn’t had that delicious cereal for so long. All W Academy served for breakfast was eggs and bacon, and as good as bacon was, he really wanted sugary marshmallows and toasted oats. Alfred looked at his reflection in the refrigerator’s shiny surface. He had to admit he was pretty cute when he was young, but now he was looking attractive, of course not saying that in a narcissistic way. He frowned when he saw glasses sitting on his nose. He longed for perfect vision. He noticed he was growing bigger, and hadn’t gained a lot of weight quite yet. _Good thing I started working out around this time_ , he thought.
> 
> He saw his father and almost screamed. Ten years weren’t so easy on him, especially when you’ve just seen his self from the past. His hair was turning gray at the roots, and wrinkles took its toll. He was checking over his files and bills. Alfred felt bad that he was eating right in front of him while he was stressing.
> 
> “Y’know, Alfred, with this economy bust and whatnot, my income’s been diminishing.” His dad said, frowning as he jammed some numbers on his calculator. He mumbled some curses at the government before continuing, “It’s getting harder and harder to pay for your education.”
> 
> Alfred knew exactly when this was. It was the summer before his 2nd year, just a few months ago. “I’ll drop out, then,” He proposed. “The tuition is too high, anyway.”  
>  “No.” His dad said, contradicting himself. “You will stay in W Academy. Jones are not quitters.” Alfred realized he still followed that family saying. He did persist on becoming Arthur’s friend. And it happened.
> 
> “What about you, Pops? Me and Matthieu being at the academy isn’t helping.”
> 
> “Did you hear what I just said? I’m a Jones. I’ll work it out.” He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his arm. “I heard that the head of Kirkland Corporation – you know, one of your friend’s uncle works there – is planning to send his son to your school.”
> 
> “Why all the way here? They live in England.”
> 
> “I don’t know, probably to get an even better education. His father wants nothing but the best for his son, just like me and you.” _Dad, you’re wrong about Arthur’s father._  “He might be placed in your year. If he does come here, do me a favor and become friends with him.”
> 
> It was a strange request, even though later Alfred forever owed his father for telling him to go after Arthur. “Sure, but why?”
> 
> “I know you have a lot of friends, but he’ll be new so it wouldn’t hurt to befriend him. He has a lot of money, just handed to him, more than I could ever make.” His dad laughed. “Maybe he could even help us pay our fees.”
> 
> He was appalled. “That’s all? You just want his money?”
> 
> “Wouldn’t you?” He sighed and went back to work.
> 
> _You’re wrong, again, Dad._ Alfred thought.  _You've changed over time. I'_ _m not in it for the money._ _I’m in it because he’s that someone._

Alfred’s eyes snapped open. The moon shone through the window, lighting up their room. He spent the next few minutes pondering about his dream. It was a memory, but why remember it now? Does it have any significance? He concentrated on Arthur’s breathing. It was slow and paced, but he heard him shift and he woke up. Alfred tensed up, not wanting him to know he was also awake. He settled down when he heard his roommate roll over and go back to sleep.

He made sure Arthur wasn’t awake anymore and looked at him. For someone raised to be conserved and gentlemanly, he slept like a monster. His blanket was scrunched into a ball tangled in his limbs, and his arm lazily hung over the edge. He drooled a little, soft snores escaping his mouth. Alfred saw his boxers had shifted down from moving around so much, revealing a deep V-line. Just looking at him sent tingles down his spine. _I knew you way before you knew me, and I know that sounds creepy, but now that I can talk to you real-time, it feels like we’ve been friends forever._  Alfred flipped his pillow to the cold side and sank his head into it, stomach-down. _I just hope you feel the same way I do, Arthur._  
  
Arthur woke up to his phone alarm, its shrill tones piercing into his skull. He groaned and threw it across the room, expecting it to land in his phone-catching contraption he’d set up on the wall in his bedroom. He didn’t hear the familiar clunk-swish, and realized he wasn’t at home. He quickly sat up and bashed his face into the bed frame above him.  
Alfred laughed, watching Arthur rub his eyes. He’d been awake for less than a minute and already smacked himself in the face. “Nice throw,” He commented, snapping a quick selfie on his phone.

“Nice catch,” Arthur said, stretching and – quite literally – rolling out of bed.

“It should be. I used to play baseball, y’know.”

“Baseball?” Arthur asked, haphazardly throwing his sheets onto his bed. Usually Michelle did that for him, but he was on his own now. He felt terrible about that. He couldn’t even make his bed, what a spoiled kid he must seem to be.

“Are you kidding–” Alfred started. “I can’t explain it, but it’s an American sport using a ball and a bat.”

“It’s like wiffle ball, then.”

“What?” Alfred exclaimed. “What the hell is a wiffle – n-nevermind. How’d you sleep? You were out for so long I thought you’d died.”

“I slept well, I guess. I had a weird dream about my past.” Alfred tensed up. Was it weird that they both had dreams that probably meant something?

“While you were sleeping, I bought you some uniform sets. I get up early anyway, so I thought, ‘Why not?’” Alfred gestured towards the neatly folded clothes. “I got you lots of blazers, and hoodies too. I like the hoodies because it’s like I’m dressing casually.”

“Oh, thank you.” Arthur shuffled over to change into his uniform. “Listen, about _that day_ …”

“Don’t worry. You were just with me; you can trust me.” Alfred replied. “Actually, this is the closest I’ve been with anyone. I’ve never had to keep secrets like this.”

Arthur smiled. “You’re the first real friend to me too. I hope we can stay mates forever.”

Alfred was upset about two things from his response. One, and way more importantly, he treated his situation like a simple secret. Abuse was a serious conflict in his country. And if Arthur had gone into his painful hallucinations right in front of him, this was so much more than a parenting ‘carrot and stick’ method. Secondly, he felt like Arthur didn’t like him the way he did. He had heard about him all of his life, and in the first day upon meeting him he had learned so much about him. It was like there was room for so much more in their relationship, and Alfred was stuck on Level 1.

Once Arthur was dressed in his snazzy uniform, Alfred followed him out the door and locked it, shaking his head at how he always left his keys inside. They descended down the stairs, talking amongst themselves as their words bounced with their steps. They arrived at the 2nd years’ building and said goodbye to each other, heading into separate directions to enter their different classrooms.

Both of them hating being alone, despite them being surrounded by other people. Arthur could only wholly trust him, and he wanted to talk to him. Just a few days ago, he completely repulsed the thought of being friends with an American. But Alfred changed his view on everything. They just wanted to be with each other, and there was so much in their way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooh angsty ish. Ahh I want to finish the story already so you see everything link together. I feel like this was kinda a weird chapter, but it links to the next. I wanted to cut it off there because y'all have waited too long. I'm afraid to say it's another wait till the next...WHEN IS FRIDAY?


	7. Teahouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's been at W Academy for a few days, and he tries to avoid Alfred. This time, it's inevitable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a HUGE edit for the fic. How huge? I inserted like two chapters into the story that weren't there before. If you have been reading for the meanwhile, REREAD IT. I edited so much.

It was another rainy day. As hard as the rain came down, it was still no match for England during the wet season. Students ran around, getting their uniforms drenched, but their expressions remained as bright as ever.

It was a Saturday. Since it was a weekend there was no school and you were allowed to leave campus. Arthur was still unsure what to do, but he didn’t want Alfred to question him on his being, so he decided staying outside was better. Rain was his only friend, whom comforted him when he shut himself in his room.

He decided to explore the campus since he denied a tour too many times. He’d stumbled upon The Center, where all the restaurants and shops were for the students’ entertainment. He didn’t even know this existed – one of the reasons being that it was not in the center of the school, and more of off to the side in its secluded area. He noticed that the kids who stayed at school during the weekends, spent their time here for leisure.

Arthur found a small tea house and went inside, trusting his instinct to go with what he knew about tea. Surprisingly, it was Asian culture-themed. Sometimes he forgot tea wasn’t just ‘an English thing’. He nervously stepped up to the counter in the front of the little tea house.

“H-hello, or konnichiwa…was it ni hao? I’m sorry, I’m not familiar with…I don’t even know what language these markings are in–”

“It’s okay, we all speak English here.” The girl at the counter said, smiling sweetly. She had long, wavy, dark brown hair, with flowers accessorized into it. Arthur was shocked to see one of her strands was wildly curly and stuck out. What was it with people and random curls? “This is a Japanese tea house. By the way, I’m Mei. Xiao Mei. I'm a 1st year.”  
Arthur nodded. “I’m Arthur. I think I’ve seen you a few days ago.”

Her eyes light up when she remembered him running to the dinner hall. But wasn't there another boy. “Yes, I did! What happened to that Alfred guy? Isn't he your friend?”

“N-no…” He replied. Alfred was simply his roommate, who constantly asked if he was feeling okay and liked to hold his hand and make Arthur feel weird – nothing more, nothing less! “Are you Japanese?” He asked, trying to change the subject.

“Oh, no, I’m Taiwanese. I do love Japanese culture, though. Especially the kawaii stuff. Mr. Honda's teaching me how to speak Japanese. It’s kinda easy since it uses a lot of kanji, and–”

“Mei! We work here on weekends to serve tea, not to socialize!” A girl shouted. Arthur recognized her to be Lien Chung.

“Oh! Right! Sorry!” Mei replied. “I tend to get distracted easily…may I take your order?”

Arthur was also sidetracked and looked up at the menu for the first time. Luckily there were no customers behind him; he could take as long as he wanted. He scanned the items, and frowned. Not only couldn’t he find the teas he drank back in England, most of the names of the teas here he couldn’t dream of pronouncing! Finally, he found something that looked relatively English. “Barley tea, please.”

He received a steaming hot cup of tea, and deeply inhaled the scent. It was exhilarating, it reminded him of home – in a good way. With the rain softly tapping on the glass windows, he just wanted to curl up with a book in a big, comfy chair and – where were the chairs?

“You sit on the floor, duh,” Hot breath entered his ear, sending tingles to his brain. Arthur jumped and whipped around to face one of the people he was trying to avoid – Alfred F. Jones.

“Bloody hell, you scared the shit out of me!” Arthur yelled, and added, “I almost dropped my _tea_!”

Alfred threw his hands up in surrender, but he still grinned with delight. “Aight, sorry! I didn’t know you liked tea. Wait, I forgot – you’re English.”

“The Chinese were the first to use tea.” Arthur said. “What are you doing here?”

“Jeez, I gotta have a reason?” Alfred laughed when Arthur continued to glare at him. “I was gonna go to McDonald’s or something and I saw you in here. Maybe I should get something too.” He waved at Lien, whom didn’t smile, but her firm expression lightened a little. Alfred seemed to have such a power. “Hi, Chung! Can I get some konacha tea and fugu?”

Before Arthur could whip up some excuse to leave, he found himself sitting at a table. It wasn’t the kind of table he was used to, though. These were extremely low and close to touching the ground. Alfred excitedly sat on a cushion and crossed his legs, while Arthur followed with caution. He saw Alfred move the blanket on the table over the legs, so he did too.

“H-hot!” He exclaimed. He didn’t even care about the pain in his tailbone from getting slammed against a brick wall, or how Alfred was smiling at him. It was like his worries melted away as this mysterious table released heat.

“I thought you were supposed to sound all articulate, not like a caveman.” Alfred said. “But yeah, it’s warm. If you didn’t know, this is called a kotatsu table. It would feel /way/ better if I was wearing a kimono.” He winked.

Arthur was so relaxed he nearly forgot about his tea. He slowly raised the cup to his lips, pinky extending automatically, and took a sip. It tasted so good and he lost himself in this world. He shuddered with pleasure. He made a mental note to visit this teahouse again in the future.

“You look like you’re having the time of your life.”

“I am.” Arthur said, his eyes closed and the corners of his lips turning ever so slightly.

“You look cute when you smile.” He quickly opened his eyes and frowned. He glared at Alfred. How dare he call him _cute_ , how dare he replace the blissfulness in Arthur's body with this strange feeling – like butterflies in his stomach or heat in his cheeks! “Ah, there’s the scowl. Don’t do that. It doesn’t look handsome.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do? Go around wearing that adorable grin like you?” He spat.

Alfred smiled once more. “If you think it’s _so_  adorable, feel free to do so.”

Arthur’s face turned a scarlet red. Did he just say what he think he did? He just said Alfred was adorable…shit. He wasn’t! Arthur drank the rest of his tea, blocking his view of Alfred with the cup.

“Here, Alfred.” Lien came around and set a platter before him. “Your tea and fugu.” She removed the cover, and after the steam cleared out, Arthur saw this clear…stuff.

“I’m not gonna die, am I?” Alfred asked. “Y’know, I read a blowfish’s poison can paralyze your muscles and you lay there, like fully awake and you can’t breathe and you have a long and painful dea–”

“The chances of dying from fugu is extremely low, like skydiving. Our chef has lots of experience. And if you don’t want to die, why’d you get it?” She started to walk away, before adding, “Unless you want to join the ghosts that haunt this very teahouse.”

Alfred halted, a slab of fugu sashimi inches away from his mouth. “What? What ghosts? Lien, don’t do this to me! You know how much I hate ghosts!” She was already gone, probably serving another customer.

“She’s only saying that to scare you. She thinks you’re too scared to eat it. Besides, who’d actually believe in gh–” Arthur saw how pale Alfred had become. His skin was almost as white as the blowfish. “Oh, bollocks. Alfred, Alfred! There are no ghosts here.”

“S-sure, but now I don’t want to eat the fugu. What if I die? How lame is that, being that _one_  person who gets poisoned? I’d die out of embarrassment in front of you, instead of dying from lack of oxygen.”

“Fine, listen to me: I’ll eat this – _thing_  – if you eat it. That way, if it happens to be poisoned, we can die together.”

Alfred grinned. “Really? That’s really romantic of you.”

“What?” Arthur yelled. “I’m doing this because it’s annoying me how you’re not going to eat it. It’s not like I’m doing it for you. Plus, I want to see what it tastes like.”

“Alright, then,” Alfred said. “You go first.”

“What the hell? Why do I have to go first! You go first!”

“C’mon, it’s not even poisonous. And besides, if you die, it’ll look pretty badass, I mean think about it: _Death by Blowfish_.” He gestured towards nothing, as if sparkles would come out of the air.

“That sounds idiotic and you know it.”

“Hurry up and do it!”

“No!”

“I'll pay you!”

“I’m sorry, but do you have any idea who you’re talking to?” He couldn’t care less about money!

“Do it, Kirkland.” Alfred pushed the plate towards him.

“You do it!” He pushed it back. “And don’t call me Kirkland!”

“I’ll call you whatever I want. It’s ‘Kirkland’ or ‘babe’. Your choice.” Arthur took the chopsticks from him, and Alfred's eyes widened. “ _That_  got you to do it?”

“No, you buffoon! I’m doing it to get it over with.”

“Oh, being ballsy, are we?”

He rolled his eyes. “You should have done it if you always want to be the her–” He froze, and dropped the chopsticks.

“The what?” Alfred said. “Arthur? Oh, God, Arthur?! Shit, what do I do?”

Arthur started laughing.

“Oh my God, Arthur, you piece of shit.” Alfred put his face in his hands as he continued to laugh. “I hate you so much, man, don’t do that to me…”

“I’m sorry, Alfred, I couldn’t resist. Thank you for giving me some laughs.” Arthur said, lightly patting him on the back.

“No problem…” He wearily replied.

“Are you going to try the fugu now?”

“I guess, but I’m not going to pull some prank like you just did…” He held the chopsticks in his hand and picked up a piece. “You seriously scared me, dude, I was about to start crying.”

“Mhmm, now open wide.” Arthur instructed, a small smile still on his face. He did feel a little bad. Alfred looked horrified and downright terrified out of his mind.

Alfred ate a piece, and flexed his arms. “I survived! It’s pretty good.”

“That’s nice to know, now give me the chopsticks. I couldn’t enjoy the flavor while pretending to be poisoned.”

~

They took turns eating pieces of the fugu. Arthur tried to barely touch the While they were getting ready to leave, Arthur mentally slapped himself. Wasn’t the purpose of going to this teahouse to _get away_  from Alfred? Honestly, he didn't mind his company. He was a nice person to have around, as long as he didn't get too annoying or personal. He would talk to him as long as he didn't ask about his father or anything.  


The two stepped outside, and was greeted with a sheet of rain. "Wow, I was sure the rain would have stopped by now." Arthur said.

"Yeah, it's finally raining here. You know, it's still like, super hot in California. It's already fall! Or autumn, I don't know what you Brits say." Alfred said, and took out an umbrella. He opened it to reveal American flag-themed colors on its canopy. Typical. "Didn't you bring an umbrella?"

"I don't use umbrellas. It's ungentlemanly."

"Well, can I be the gentleman and offer to walk you to your - I mean,  _our_ \- dorm?"

"How do you know that's where I'm headed?"

"Where else, Arthur?" Alfred asked. "This place is nice and all, but it's really: class, dorm, and dinner hall."

"Fine. I'll walk with you." He and Alfred stepped into the rain. Arthur blushed when he realized just how much taller Alfred was. In rain, height differences are terrible. "You idiot! This is why I don't use umbrellas! You're too tall for me and all the rain's hitting me in the face!" He grabbed the handle and pulled it closer, shielding himself. He hadn't even noticed his hand was holding onto Alfred's. He blushed. It wasn't a gesture out of romance; it was friendly! He was Alfred's friend, right?

"You're just too short for me." Maybe he was Alfred's friend, but it wouldn't be long until he annoyed Arthur to death.

They got to their dorm, and Alfred fished out his keys. Arthur was always with him, so he felt he didn't need to bring his keys. He always forgot to, anyway.

"Hey, uh, thank you for dedicating so much time to me." Arthur said. Alfred looked at him, confused by his random outburst. "I know you're very popular, and now you're always with me. I'm sorry for being so dependent on you."

"It's alright, man." Alfred smiled, making Arthur's heart beat faster. Why did that happen? "That's what friends do, right?"

"F-Friend?" Arthur said slowly, testing the word on his tongue.

"Yeah, friend." Alfred replied. "Y'got a problem with that?"

"No, no..." Arthur said. "Thank you for being my friend." Saying it excited him. Could having a  _friend_ be the reason why Arthur felt lightheaded and his cheeks always blushing? He didn't feel this kind of way with his other new  _friends._ Maybe Alfred was a special friend. _  
_


	8. Winter Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which winter break starts and Arthur and Alfred are both jealous and selfish losers and constantly stress if the other knows they like him. (Probably a terrible summary but you'll know.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are some notes about the fanon human names:  
> Nirand = Thailand  
> Li Xiao = Hong Kong
> 
> EDIT: Cuba, who I previously introduced as Maxima, is now Carlos, just because I'm picky with names.

_Early December._

It had been three months since Arthur’s first day at W Academy. Every single day, Alfred and Arthur walked to class together only to be put with different teachers. They had quite a lot of friends themselves, but they desperately wanted to hang out with each other when it wasn’t at dinner. It wasn’t like they talked while they were sleeping, either.

“I’m going back to Budapest for the break!” Elizabeta exclaimed, adjusting her winter sweater. It was cold enough to lightly snow so students were allowed to wear non-academy sweaters. A lot of them were from countries with colder weather, so they weren’t bothered by it. Raivis nearly wet himself when he saw the towering Ivan Braginsky strolling the campus in a snow-covered muscle tee. Anyone who saw those muscles knew better than to be in the halls without a pass.

“A lot of people are going back to visit their family for Christmas.” Lili said. “This year, Vash is taking me shopping!”

Roderich added, “Shopping? That’s rare.” He turned to Arthur. “Hey, what are you doing for the holidays? You gonna go back to England and spend time with your family?”  
Arthur shifted in his chair. Only Alfred knew why he desperately wanted to avoid anyone in his family. He got practically anything he wanted for Christmas, but unfortunately ‘being loved’ wasn’t a present Santa could bring. He didn’t exist in his life. “Actually, I’m going to stay here.”

He nodded. “Have fun, then. I know Alfred and Matthieu are staying here too, and a lot of other kids.”

For the day they took a break from studying and held a potluck in class; he had already learned a lot of what they were taught so studying wasn’t an issue. Arthur was bewildered by how many different foods that were brought in by the other students. He didn’t know much about their countries’ cultures, but he did know their cuisine was far better than the typical fish and chips he ate several times a week at home. Arthur realized he never really talked with the other kids and decided, hey, might as well do it once before the year is over. He walked over to Matthieu, since he kind of knew him from his brother. He saw him talking to a dark-skinned boy with long dreadlocks pulled back into a ponytail. He noticed he almost never wore the school uniform; while he did wear the jacket sometimes, he had a muscle tee underneath and wore flip-flops. He didn’t understand how he didn’t yelled at by student body president Lovino Vargas (his brother Feliciano was secretary and was rumored to have an unprofessional relationship with Headmaster Beilschmidt), but he looked like he had an attitude that would stand his ground.

“Hi, Arthur,” Matthieu said. “Oh, this is Carlos Machada.”

Carlos took a good look at Arthur. “You’re friends with Alfred, aren’t you? It’s like he’s only not an obnoxious jerk when he’s with you.”

He shrugged. “I’m sure he’s not that annoying. I do understand that sometimes he gets a little attached, but he’s not that bad. You’d know that, Matthieu, wouldn’t you? You’re his brother, after all.” Matthieu shared a look with Carlos, and they both laughed. Arthur was confused. Weren’t siblings supposed to be the older figure you look up to and they protect you?

“He hasn’t been an asshole lately.” Carlos said. “You know what I think? He’s in love, man.”

“In love?” Arthur asked. Alfred had found a girl that he inevitably developed feelings for? He knew it would happen, but after being so close to him for several months, he felt jealous. Why had stupid Arthur had to start liking him? He had barely accepted it himself, but he kept it a secret that he may like his best friend a little. He told himself that it’s _not_  a crush, and it _never_  will be. In fact, he convinced himself, he never even had a crush on him. It’s wrong. He remembered his mother telling him to always find a woman to marry, and God forbid him to love a man. It’s only natural. Alfred would like a girl and never him.

He didn’t know when it happened. There was no exact moment when he started to find Alfred F. Jones attractive, and his personality irresistible. He adored his strengths, and appreciated his weaknesses. Arthur always caught himself fanaticizing about him and tried to distance himself from Alfred. He hoped he didn’t notice his absence of mind, but there was no way he could fall in love with him. If he ever found out, he would panic and Arthur’s first real friendship would be ruined.

“W-who is she?” Arthur asked, refraining from screaming. “Matthieu, you should know this. Y-you’re his brother!” He’d seen this family mind-reading ability. Lili always knew when Vash was upset, as in truly bothered by something other than his regular rash character. He’d also observed that one of the boys in his class, Li Xiao, would get a stomachache right before his brother Nirand would fail a test. It was a foreign concept.

  
“I may look just like him, but I don’t know what he’s thinking.” Matthieu replied.

“You don’t look that alike. You have longer, silkier hair.” Arthur said. “It’s pretty.”

“Um, thank you.” He grinned and elbowed Carlos. “So why’d you mistake me for Al, eh?” He grumbled a ‘Oh, shut up, Matthieu,’ as one long bell rang, representing the official start of winter break. Students trickled out of the classroom to join their friends and leave the school. “Carlos and I are going out today, so I’ll see you later, okay?”

Arthur drifted into the main grounds outside his classroom. It was the closest to their front entrance, so he watched some students, from 1st years to 4th years, trudge through the piling snow and reunite with their friends and family. He saw them say hello to their parents and their small siblings who had missed them. Others took their time leaving the school grounds. A few feet away he saw two tall, 4th year boys holding hands. Knowing that there were gay couples in W Academy comforted Arthur.

The taller one, wearing an olive green parka and tan slacks, playfully kissed the other on the cheek, who swatted him away. He wore a brown jacket around his shoulders and underneath, a simple white tee that showed off his muscles. 4th years had a less strict dress code and could wear the uniform with variations of style and color. “Stop it, Sadik,” He warned. “Not here.”

Sadik threw his head back in laughter, exposing the stubble that collected on his chin. “Aw, c’mon, Heracles. It’s break. What are they gonna do? Right now, we’re not students of W Academy.”

Heracles sighed. “Whatever. I’m worried about my cats. I hope they’re okay.” Sadik slipped his arm around his boyfriend’s waist. He saw Arthur staring and glared. They looked nice, but they really were intimidating, like they’d been in physical fights before. “Hey, what are you looking at, punk?” Sadik growled.

“Leave him alone, Sadik.” Heracles said. He looked like Arthur was nothing, which was a feeling he knew all too well. He was a tiny bit surprised that they didn't recognize him, and felt selfish; not everyone cared about him, which was relieving in some ways. Arthur was scared by his serious tone but noticed he moved slowly and fluidly, like he was lazy and just didn’t care. He was set on edge when Heracles added, “Just look at him. He’s a queer.”

“Queer?” That was slang he’d never heard before. He’d definitely have to ask someone what that meant. Arthur straightened his back. He tried to remember what Alfred taught him about declaring his freedom, whatever that meant. ‘Talk like a chav. If you sound stupid enough you might throw your enemy off. Or you may look like a jackass, but either way you’ll rid of them.’ He wondered how Alfred knew what a chav was, but pushed the question aside. “Who are you calling queer, huh? I’m–”

“Arthur. Kirkland!” Someone finished his sentence, causing him to turn to the source of the voice. He was knocked back by a blur, golden-brown hair in his face. Alfred tackled him to the ground, and they fell and sunk into the powdery, white snow.

Sadik laughed. “You’re right. Look at that innocence. He doesn't even know. Let’s go, Herc.” He said and they walked away, leaving the two boys breathing heavily in the snow.

“Alfred!” Arthur replied after what seemed like ages.

“It’s winter break! Aren’t you excited? We get to spend three weeks by ourselves, just you and me!” Alfred squealed. He had wanted this so badly. It was horrible having to spend the day alone with Arthur just next door. Three weeks alone with his crush is just what Alfred needed.

Arthur, on the other hand, wasn’t celebrating as much. He was glad he could have some time with Alfred even though most of the school was on vacation, but he was still worked up over the fact that Alfred liked someone. Maybe she was here. Arthur bitterly thought he’d ditch him for her and he’d spend the rest of the year alone. The rest of his life alone, more like it. He was annoyed. Why hadn’t he seen that Alfred liked a girl, so he would stop liking him himself before anything got serious? And shouldn’t he have told Arthur? They were best friends. Boys could tell secrets too.

They both had very different views on how winter break would go.

~

Arthur did let his guard down and have fun, despite the fear of _her_  creeping up on him. He wondered who she was. The only other girl he’d seen so far was Katyusha, but he doubted Alfred would fall in love with her huge breasts alone. Anyway her brother Ivan lurked around her so Alfred would never try to get with her. Whoever she was, he hoped he was jealous that he was hanging out with Alfred.

One night, they were roasting marshmallows in front of the fireplace in the 2nd years’ lounge room. Alfred sat in an easy chair while Arthur crossed his legs on the floor, resting his head between Alfred’s thighs. This seemed like a relaxing position, but both of them were far from comfortable.

Arthur mentally yelled at himself for being an idiot. He was being so obvious about liking him; what kind of boy puts his head on his friend’s crotch? He smirked, knowing he could do this and _she_  couldn’t. He was being an ass for thinking like this, but it helped comfort him.

Alfred took in shallow breaths and his legs were tense. His heart was racing and the blood had rushed to his head. Why did he have to sit like this? Alfred panicked, feeling uncomfortably pleasured with Arthur's head between his thighs. He desperately chanted in his mind, _Please don’t get a boner, please, he’ll know you’re gay for him and he’ll pay for a flight out of here and change his name and whatever. Is it too late to say ‘no homo’?_

Arthur swallowed the sugary gooeyness in his mouth. His tongue felt sticky from the marshmallows but he was desperate to know. He was tired of stressing over this during winter break. “Who do you like?” He said flatly.

Alfred’s right leg twitched but he tried to make it subtle so Arthur wouldn’t know how nervous he was. Alfred’s mind worked on double, trying to scrape up a reply. He didn’t know what to say. It’s like the murderer asking who killed the victim! Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. “W-why do you ask?”

Arthur turned around to face him and rested his arm on his thighs. “We all know you have a crush. So come on, tell me. Who’s the girl?”

Alfred wanted to scream. He wanted to tell Arthur that he didn’t like girls, well maybe he did, but the only exception was him. “It’s not a girl…It’s a guy.” He said. He wasn’t exactly lying; he just wasn’t saying he liked him.

Arthur was crushed. Not only did his best friend and maybe-a-crush like someone, he liked someone of the same sex. It was a _he_ , not a _she_! He was a guy, too. Why couldn’t Alfred like him? Arthur looked away from him. So close, yet so far. Whatever. He didn't care.

“T-that’s cool.” Arthur lied. It was not cool. He was boiling furiously. “Um, I’m going to get m-more marshmallows.” He quickly stood up and ran away before Alfred could stop him.

He ran to the kitchen and grabbed the marshmallow bag right as tears slipped down his cheeks. He blinked rapidly, cursing at himself for crying. He knew it was a terrible choice to like him. He should have just kept denying it to himself. It wasn’t a crush. No one knew, anyway. He’ll just pretend that he never liked Alfred and never will.

Arthur quickly wiped his face with his sleeve and came back and handed Alfred the bag, who reluctantly took it. Both of them didn’t feel like eating anymore. “I, uh, asked because I was wondering if you like the same girl. See, I h-have a crush too.” He lied. Well, he did think Michelle was pretty and had a lovely personality, but he’d never go further than admit that she was a girl worth liking.

“Oh, I see.” Alfred said through an emotionless face. On the inside, he was furious. What the hell, he likes someone? How dare he! He can’t like someone when _he_  likes him! “Who is she?”

“I’m not going to tell you!” It’s not like he really had anyone to talk about. “You won’t even tell me yours!”

Alfred winced. He got him there. He couldn’t just tell him, especially if Arthur had a crush himself. If Alfred told him he liked him, he would reject him and Arthur and the girl he liked would laugh at him forever. Alfred F. Jones dared to have a crush on Arthur Kirkland! he heard him say in his head. _What does the F even stand for? Fag?_ Alfred shook the voice out of his thoughts. Screw that girl. He would like Arthur even if it ruined everything.

Later that night, things had settled down and they went sledding on the giant snow-covered hill. Alfred was lying in his bunk as Arthur was in the bathroom, brushing his teeth. He was just about to fall asleep when he came out and asked, “H-hey, Alfred, can I sleep with you tonight?”

Alfred nearly fell out of his bed. He sat up and looked down at Arthur. He had ditched his horrid ‘nightclothes’, and the term pajamas entirely as he started sleeping in only his boxers. It became a growing problem for Alfred. As his scars faded away, it revealed how nice his body actually was. His skin was milky and soft to the touch and after signing up for the Boxing class, led by Im Yong Soo, his abdomen was rock hard compared to the rest of him. Alfred suspected that he started working out for the girl Arthur liked. Too bad he got to see those muscles every night.

Alfred's eyes lingered, gaze swooping over every inch of his body, his head growing lighter the longer he looked. He had been staring at him for three seconds, and it was three seconds too much. He averted his eyes, blushing, and Arthur stumbled out, “U-uh, it’s not like I l-like you or anything. No homo, right?”

Arthur winced at his own words. It was harder than he thought to not like someone. It was devastating to throw that phrase around like it was nothing. It sounded just as absurd when he first heard it, but in times of emergency like this, it served as a good excuse. Alfred was hurt more. His crush just said he didn’t like him (back). It felt like a stab to the heart. “Y-yeah, sure. Come up here.” Arthur climbed up the ladder and Alfred took his hand, helping him onto his bunk. Blood swelled in their cheeks, painting their skin a bright red, and they pulled away quickly.

Alfred flopped back onto his bed and threw his covers on top of Arthur. “Goodnight, kiddo.” He leaned over and turned off the switch of the tall lamp that stood beside their bed.  
“Kid? Please, I’m older than you.” Arthur said. Alfred nearly forgot he was almost a year younger than him. Thank the American education system for placing him in the same year as him.

“I took you under my wing, so you’re like my apprentice.” Alfred was about to use ‘son’ but he realized it was too weird to claim he was his father. _I wouldn’t mind being his daddy_ , He thought. _What…Jesus Christ, Jones, what are you doing…_ He turned his head to see that Arthur was on his side, already sleeping. Alfred debated whether he should or not, then went ahead and did it. He sneakily slid his arm around Arthur’s waist and pulled him closer, digging his nose into his messy blond hair that smelled of strawberries and kiwis. Alfred fell asleep soon after, soft snores filling the room.

Arthur was not sleep. In fact he was awake the entire time. He had rolled over to his side and pretended to be unconscious, when he felt Alfred’s hand snake around him and lay on his stomach. He heard him shift in the blankets and decrease the space between them. In that moment, he knew his bum was resting on Alfred’s thigh. His mind automatically went somewhere else, and blood rushed to his cheeks and also down south. You were raised to be a gentleman, Arthur, He reminded himself. He heard Alfred’s breathing even out and instantly knew he was gone. His hand was dangerously near his crotch, and Arthur prayed nothing bad would happen. He wanted to push him off, but cuddling with him felt so nice. He draped his arm more over him and went to sleep.

~

Usually Alfred always got up really early in the morning, but since it was break he let himself enjoy these extra hours of sleep. His body clock still rang and he couldn’t go back to sleep. He didn’t want to move because he would wake up Arthur. His arm was still brushed up against his creamy skin so if he got up he would notice his absence. All he could do was wait until Arthur woke up.

It didn’t take long. Even though it was winter the sun was as bright as ever and the curtains did nothing to filter its light. Arthur’s eyelids fluttered open and he squinted, unsure why it was still sunny as hell.

He went to rub his eyes but something was holding his hand down. He looked and saw Alfred’s fingers linked with his. Oh, He thought, and wiped his face with his other hand. Wait, what? It had been so long since they held hands, even when he didn’t like him yet. He squealed in his mind but a pang of jealously suggested he dreamt it was of the guy Alfred liked.

Arthur sat up and glanced at him. He sensed his movement and grumbled, “G’morning, Arthur.” He doubted it and saw the clock hanging on the wall beside them. 12:17. No wonder why the sun was so high. Alfred opened his eyes, revealing clear blue eyes the same color as the sky. They weren’t cloudy and he inferred he had just been lying there the entire time. All while holding his hand. He wondered how that even happened. Did Alfred do it on purpose? Did they subconsciously move their hands towards each other? He didn’t know, and he really didn’t care.

Arthur swung his legs off the bed, and hopped off – only to realize, in that split second, he was in the bunk above his and had jumped into a void of 6 feet of air. “Arthur!” Alfred yelled, and grabbed at him. He found a grip on him but he was already falling, and pulled poor Alfred down with him.  
Arthur landed on his ass, quite literally, and had the wind knocked out of his lungs. A moment later Alfred came crashing down, further crushing him. He sprawled out onto him and they lay there, panting and calculating what just happened.

Their door opened, and Matthieu poked his head in. “Hey, sorry for bothering you, but we heard this crash…oh, I –” He saw Alfred on top of Arthur, Alfred on all fours and Arthur underneath him with his arms on his shoulders. They looked at him, their ocean blue and sky green eyes piercing him.

“Matt!” Alfred shouted, and leaped off Arthur and ran to the other side of the room. Arthur scrambled to his feet and leaned against the beam of the bunk, blushing madly.

“Well, uh, anyway, you want to go to the mall with me and Carlos?” He asked. “It’ll be fun!”

“Yeah, yeah. Just give us a few minutes, alright?” Alfred said, shooing him away.

“We’ll be outside, then…” Matthieu said, closing the door. He leaned towards Carlos and whispered, “Holy s–maple, I’ve never seen Alfred so _stupid_  before! How do they not realize they like each other?” He could only shrug. These two were probably the biggest idiots in the world. Matthieu was certain his brother must’ve been dropped on his head as a baby or something, there was no way he couldn’t see this mutual relationship blooming. The entire 2nd year class knew there was something going on between them. Soon enough the whole school would notice, and even so, the two would still be oblivious.

They were too busy to notice what Matthieu and Carlos were talking about. They were picking out casual clothes for a rare outing! Arthur was especially excited. He’d only been to the crowded cities of England and sometimes joined the wine-sipping, cheese–smelling bastards in France. He’d never been in America other than their academy. For some reason, he had the perfect outfit prepared: a black zipper jacket, a red shirt, black skinny jeans, red Vans, and to top it off, a bandanna with the Union Jack printed on it tied around his neck.

Alfred glanced at Arthur while taking a hoodie out of his drawer, and did a double-take. “Wow, Arthur,” He said, looking him up and down, “That’s…interesting.”

“What? This is how I dress casually!”

“‘Casually’? Where did you go, punk concerts and clubs?”

Arthur scoffed and put his hands on his hips, winning a smile from Alfred. “Dressing in punk shows everyone that I’m some wee little posh boy. And besides, you don’t know me outside of school.”

“Touché.” Alfred replied. He was right. He didn’t know anything that wasn’t super personal about him. He knew he had terrible nightmares (which fortunately rarely ever happened anymore) yet he didn’t know anything personality-wise like what music he liked. “Hey, what bands do you like?”  
Arthur shrugged, and counted off his fingers as he said, “Oh, stuff like My Chemical Romance and Green Day and Muse. You know, the basics.” He smiled as if their music was playing in his head.

Alfred quietly mumbled, “Um, I’ve never heard of those bands.”

“Seriously?!” He asked. “What music have you been listening to?”

Alfred put on a white muscle tee and slammed his drawer shut. “Nothing, really. Maybe I should give them a try.”

Arthur nodded. “You should. I used to have all of their albums, but my father found them and had me break each CD and burn them.” He brushed it off like it was nothing. She made him do it himself? “It’s hard to build up my collection now. They’re so hard to find ever since MCR broke up. Such a shame.”

Arthur seemed really devoted to bands. He never knew he had this side of him. It was nice, seeing him branch off like this. Alfred smirked. They were going to the mall today, and it was nearing Christmas…everything was coming into plan. He just found the perfect gift.

“C’mon, let’s go!” Alfred exclaimed, taking Arthur’s hand and leading him out of their room. Matthieu and Carlos saw their intertwined fingers and shared a look. “Yo, it’s Arthur’s first time to an American mall!”

Carlos said, “Well, you’re in for a good time! Let’s go, man! Vamanos!” Alfred locked their dorm room and stuffed his keys in his pocket. Arthur never tried to bring his keys again since he was always with him. Arthur wondered if the guy Alfred liked was being ‘cockblocked’ by him, but he figured it was okay since that guy was cockblocking him too.

Some days, he really wanted to know who Alfred liked. But he knew his heart couldn’t take it. He already had so much negativity in his life, he didn’t need the pain of knowing he liked someone else. I really hope he likes me, Arthur thought as they descended the stairs and walked off school campus. _Oh, don’t be silly, mate, if he liked you, he’d tell you, right? I don’t know because that’s what I didn’t do…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know how I write this? At high school, everytime I have free time I start typing. And omg I need to write faster I want to get the plot done with already. This is apparently the longest chapter yet (4k).
> 
> If you want to see more of me in a text-less way, check me out: http://www.bruhssia.tumblr.com


	9. Mall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur, Alfred, Matthieu and Carlos go to the mall. Warning: new nameless character, angst, ice cream, tongues, making deals and buying things...and a lot of blushing.

“So you’re saying this is your first time taking a bus to a mall, which you’ve never been to before, and this is basically your first real visit to America?” Carlos asked, stretching across the vacant seats on the vehicle. “What the hell have you been doing, my man?”

Arthur shrugged. “Whenever I went on business trips with my dad, we always stayed in the fanciest suites and always had a chauffeur standing by. There was no reason to do this common stuff.” He hoped he didn’t sound like a pretentious rich kid. Sure, the students at W Academy had to be rich because it required so many expenses, but they were poor compared to someone who was the heir to a billionaire company. “Don’t get me wrong, I think this is all so fascinating, you know, the idea of getting onto a bus with strangers on it and talking to and buying from strangers – it all sounds so thrilling.”

Matthieu grinned. “It’s what we teenagers do all the time! You’ll be a regular one in no time.” The bus slowed to a stop and looked out the window. “It’s our stop, guys.”

Arthur got up and nearly fell on his face. The vehicle was still moving and he wasn’t used to so much motion, especially the bumps and “land turbulence” of a bus. He got a little dizzy but didn’t throw up; it would have been embarrassing if he did. He lost his balance and landed in Alfred’s lap. He felt strong arms holding him and looked up into those mesmerizing eyes and a smile just as beautiful. Wow…he could never forget that face. Carlos whispered something into Matthieu’s ear and he nodded in agreement, laughing as he had one thought on his mind: _My brother’s so gay for Arthur Kirkland._

They stepped off the bus, Arthur being the last one. He gasped at the sight of the so-called mall. It was a complex of buildings occupying a few acres. Windows and doors littered its exterior, as well as sighs bearing names of stores and brands (some of which Kirkland Company had bought).

Matthieu saw him gaping. “Just wait until you see the inside” was all he said.

It wasn’t much of a warning. When they opened the doors, an energetic buzz immediately took the place of silence. Arthur saw posters of models and products everywhere, showing everything from clothes to electronics and food. People brushed past him, apologizing with a simple “sorry” and meeting up with their friends, high-fiving them and talking informally and taking pictures with each other. Not a single person looked serious or hostile, and no one put effort into their appearance. Everyone accepted everyone else for who they were and not whose family they came from or how much money they made. However, they did carry some intriguing things. He observed different fashion styles and was amazed by it all, by everything.

The four spent the next six hours shopping. They probably looked like preppy girls from a high school movie, but boys could shop too. Their main objective was for Arthur to have as much fun as possible. They made him try on more casual and less punk-looking clothes, and he ended up buying most of them. He stuck with the skinny jeans. They all agreed he looked nice in them. Carlos joked he should get his ears pierced, and while they laughed, Arthur considered it for a second.

Alfred followed Arthur around wherever he went, lugging around all of his bags. He insisted on carrying them so he didn’t argue. His arms were turning red from the handles digging into his skin, so he sat on a nearby bench while Arthur continued browsing. He looked through racks of shirts with so much focus he didn’t see a group of girls approaching him.

“Excuse me, are you Arthur Kirkland?” one of them asked. She had short, curly blonde hair. Arthur squinted at her. She looked familiar. He glanced at Alfred. He was talking to a 1st year who was also at the mall. He was on his own. He couldn’t rely on Alfred to whisk them away with his distracting charm.

“Um, yes, I am…” Arthur was around average height, maybe a little tall for someone his age, but he felt belittled by the pack of girls who had started asking him.

“Well, uh, I knew your cousin Francis, but I’ve never met you.” _Ah, it’s her,_  He thought. He knew her alright. In the summer he was forced to stay with Francis, he’d always ditch him for his girlfriend at the time. That led to one of their biggest arguments that set their rivalry into place, so she was one of the reasons why they hated each other so much. Arthur glared at her, and at that same moment her friend took a sneaky picture of him with her phone.

Arthur didn’t know what to say. _“Hey, it’s been such a long time since you ripped me and Francis apart for good! Ten girlfriends later and you still look like a bitch!”_  Arthur began remembering the times when he and his cousin didn’t hate each other so much, before her and before she manipulated him into the person he is today. He still had no idea what puppetry she used on him. He was slipping into another world, hate swirling in his thoughts.

Alfred noticed him grinding his teeth and balling his fists. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t good. He swooped in between him and the girls, saving his ass. “Sorry, ladies, he isn’t taking any autographs.” He was taller than Arthur so he towered even further over them, and he mustered a dark look, sending the message that they should leave _now_. He angled his head so that the light would catch his glasses and he would appear intimidating, like you would see in anime. Maybe he should have asked Ivan Braginsky on how to look scary, but maybe not, since it worked so well for him.

The two girls slithered away but the first one remained. She batted her eyelashes as she gave him a good look-down. “Who are you?” She asked Alfred flirtatiously, shifting her weight to one leg and twirling her hair around her finger. “Are you one of the boys from W Academy?”

 _Oh hell no_ , Arthur thought. _I’ve seen this expression before…I don’t need another Francis._  He grabbed Alfred defensively and held him close. “Back off, he’s mine.” He hissed. He didn’t need a girl getting in his way too. She looked at them and laughed, a shrill giggle piercing his eardrums. Finally she walked away and joined her friends at the other side of the store.

“‘He’s mine?’” Alfred questioned, detaching himself from Arthur’s grip.

“Well, uh, yeah…” He stammered. Shit, he shouldn’t have said that. Alfred should definitely know Arthur liked him, how much more obvious could he be?

“Don’t worry, bro, you’re mine too,” Alfred said, sticking out his tongue and ruffling Arthur’s hair. Usually he’d smack the person who messed up his hair even though it was naturally messy, but if it was Alfred doing something to him he didn’t mind, as kinky as it sounded. He smiled, once again becoming lost in that gorgeous face of his. Arthur felt himself leaning in, the space between their faces barely an inch. He hovered closer and felt Alfred’s breath on his lips. _I don’t like him, I don’t like him!_  Arthur repeatedly screamed in his head.

“Oy, asere!” Carlos called, yanking the two of them out of their thoughts.  
_Goddammit, Carlos!_  Alfred yelled in his mind as he waved. _Why do you always have to ruin anything?! Sure, we’re only on good terms because of my brother, but you can’t interrupt this moment! I could have kissed him!_

“Hey, Machado!” He shouted through gritted teeth.

“You guys wanna get some ice cream? I’ll pay!” Carlos said.

 _A good apology starts with ice cream,_  Alfred thought. _It still won’t make up for that really intimate moment with Arthur, though. Ice cream or Arthur? What if there was Arthur-flavored ice cream? Nah, that’s too weird. I’ll have them separately._

“Man, I haven’t had ice cream in forever!” Matthieu breathed, practically drooling at the image of the treat. “We’re all big fans of ice cream, me, Carlos, and Al.”

Arthur nodded in silent agreement. Alfred sensed something was off; he squinted at him suspiciously, hoping he was kidding. He spoke slowly and softly, “Don’t tell me you’ve never had ice cream before.”

Arthur nervously smiled and avoided the confused looks from Carlos and Matthieu as they thought over the statement. _Ice…cream?_  He thought. _What the bloody hell is that supposed to be? Cream on ice? Have I had that before? Isn’t it an American delicacy? Wait…I don’t think it came from America...oh shit, I don’t know!_  “Um…does gelato count?”

Matthieu shrugged the tiniest bit and started, “Well, uh–” Carlos cut him off with, “No!”

There was a moment of silence, which felt somewhat exaggerated, or not, actually. Alfred slung his arm around Arthur’s shoulders, and said, with a huge grin, “It’s a good thing you met us, bruh!”

Arthur weakly smiled. It was a good thing he did. Just being away from his parents restored his sanity. If he hadn’t gone to W Academy, surely he would have crumbled one way or another and committed suicide. He didn’t care anymore. That path was almost irresistible compared to the pressure and abuse he constantly took. He had no future to live for. It didn’t matter if he was soon to take over Kirkland Corporation, his father could always find another candidate. Honestly, he wouldn’t have given a shit if Francis became the heir. He probably deserved it more, anyway. Before, Arthur had nothing left to lose. Now, he had Alfred in his life. Knowing him was enough; he had begun to accept he would never like him back, but it was okay. _I have to say, Father, I applaud you for being so repulsed you sent me here. It was a good choice, eh? I have something to care about now. Alfred._

The four were sitting at a table in the mall’s famous ice cream restaurant, waiting for their bowls to devour (the others forced Arthur to try as many flavors as possible).

“I have to go to the bathroom,” Arthur announced, scooting back his chair. “There’s need to follow me – we’re not a group of girls.”

“Okay, bye,” Matthieu said. The moment Arthur disappeared behind the mens’ room doors, he turned to Alfred and said, “Go.” He nodded and ran off, leaving Matthieu and Carlos behind at their table.

“What was that?” Carlos asked.

“Oh, when you and Arthur were buying some stuff, Alfred told me he’d found the perfect present for him and he wanted to surprise him with it on Christmas.” Matthieu said. “He said it was an album or something.”

Alfred dashed for the store with the obscure name he could never remember. He only knew it was the place he needed to be at was because of the rack of CD’s he saw through the window. He jogged into the store and browsed for the album. What the hell? He just saw it! Where could it be? He dug through the shelves. Who took the last copy…? He spotted a girl walking towards the cash register, holding a familiar package: a mega version of all of My Chemical Romance’s albums.

“Hey! Hey, you!” He yelled, and skidded in front of her. “Uh…Natalya?” She looked at him with extreme disinterest and continued walking. “Natayla, wait! I need that!”

“Why?” She questioned. “I don’t see it in your hands.”

Shit, she had a point. “I need it for a present! Why do you want it anyway?”

“It’s for my big brother.” Alfred knew that typical response of hers was not an excuse and was a valid reason. She dedicated everything to her brother. Alfred didn’t see Matthieu obsessing over him. It would be nice if he did, though.

“Ivan…?” Alfred suddenly realized he could be lurking around. He was one of his top targets, besides Raivis. He couldn’t consider it bullying anymore. He always took Raivis out, though he probably never voluntarily said yes. “Wait, where is he?”

“Do not worry, Jones. He is at our American home. Now if you will excuse me, I will buy this.”

“No, no! Listen, Nat, if you let me have this mega-album thing, I’ll do anything for you.” He pleaded. It was risky, but he couldn’t let Arthur down. He wouldn’t have known about it, but the guilt would be too much.

“Fine.” She thrust the box into his arms. “In return I will you make you lunch on January 7.” She sensed his confusion. Alfred was very expressive and not hard to read, however Arthur couldn’t. It wasn’t like he isn’t so dense himself, though. “Christmas is celebrated on that day in Russia.”

He nodded quickly. “Okay, free food…I don’t see a downside to that. Not that I see everything linked with you as bad, but–”

“My brother will be joining us.”

“Ah, there’s the catch! Well, uh, great! I will see you on the 25th – I, um, the 7th.” He was about to hug her but her aura clearly stated not to. He ran up to the counter and pulled out some cash, and walked out with a wrapped box underneath his jacket. Natalya watched the excited boy run around and smiled. Alfred and Natalya used to be decent friends back then, but now they weren’t as close, but still, he was one of her only friends. The moment she saw Arthur walk in her class, she knew that boy – whom she recognized by the strangely accurate descriptions Alfred gave, even though they hadn’t met yet – would change his life. She really wanted to get all of My Chemical Romance’s albums for Ivan, but seeing Alfred dance to the music of love satisfied her, it reminded her of…her. She could make it up somehow.

Arthur was in the restroom, washing his hands. He grabbed a paper towel and dried himself. He checked his reflection in the mirror, and his gaze drifted over. When he looked behind him, he saw a mirrored image of Antonio Fernandez Carriedo.

Arthur backed up against the wall, throwing his fists up in defense. Any second now, Gilbert and Francis could pop out of the stalls and beat him senseless.

“Whoa, amigo, relax,” Antonio said, putting his hands up in surrender, “I wanted to talk to you.”

“Sure, yeah, ‘talk’ to me. Actions speak louder than words, so why don’t you get it over with?”

“I won’t hurt you. Francis is in Europe and Gilbert’s with his dad. I’m alone, okay?”

“So why are you here?” Arthur always had to peek around corners at school to see if they were there, and they were always together. It was rare to see them separated.

“I’m going out with Lovino.” He said. Arthur heard rumors that Antonio was dating the ASB president and that they’d meet up in his office at night. Whether they were a couple or not was the least of his troubles. “G-going out, like h-hanging out, f-for a project!” He quickly added.

Arthur set his hands on his hips, but didn’t move an inch. They remained at opposite ends of the restroom. If there was anyone else in there beside them, it would have been awkward. “Whatever. What did you want to talk about?”

“Well, you see, I was wondering if you really want to inherit your dad’s business.” He explained. “I know you know Francis really wants it, but personally I want to know what you think.”

Arthur leaned against the white tiles of the restroom. “That’s the thing; I don’t know if I want to. I think everyone can see that. My entire life I’ve been raised to be ready to take over, but apparently so has my cousin. Naturally I feel like he isn’t qualified to, but sometimes I think, ‘Hey, maybe I should let him have it. He’s actually working hard.’”

Antonio sighed. “I see. Whatever you do, you’re not a bad kid, alright? I’m sorry for what we did to you.” He rested an elbow on the sinks. “I was supposed to work in my family business too. But I wanted to do more than harvest tomatoes, as much as I love them. I went to W Academy to pursue my dream, and I owe Francis for helping me get in. I really am in his debt, and I probably have to work for him anyway if he becomes CEO of Kirkland Corporations.”

“That’s another reason why I should give up the chase. You’ll need that job. But my parents will never forgive me if I left.”

“Your parents don’t control your dreams. If you want to do something else, they’ll just have to accept it.” His phone buzzed in his pocket and he read the message. “Ah, I have to go. Lovi got in trouble with mall security.”

Arthur nodded. “Thank you for listening to me. I’m glad to know that you don’t really hate my guts.”

“No one really hates you, Arthur. Not even Francis.” Antonio left the restroom, leaving him alone.

What was that supposed to mean?

* * *

Arthur returned to his group. Alfred look flushed and was breathing heavily, as if he’d just run a marathon. His bag looked a little bulkier than usual, but he decided to let it slide.

“Good, you got back here before your ice cream melted!” Carlos said. “Hurry up, man, we promised we wouldn’t start without you.”

Arthur picked up his spoon and they all leaned in, watching him intensely. “Can you not?”

Matthieu shrugged. “How can we not? You’ve _never_  had ice cream before, and you’re eating some of the best in the country!” He shook with excitement. “Which flavor are you gonna try first? Bacon or Pizza? No, no, eat it all at once, oh my God, Arthur, you’re killing me, just eat the fucking ice cream!” He yelled, his voice reaching full volume of his soft-spokenness, his words echoing in the food court.

“Good Lord, Matt, control yourself!” Carlos said, eyes wide. Arthur blushed. Was it his fault he made the boy, who never spoke above a whisper, scream and nearly piss himself?

“I-I’m sorry, I’m just so emotional!” He said, wiping a tear.

Arthur put a spoonful in his mouth before Matthieu lost control of himself again. _Wow, that’s cold – whoa._ He thought. He assumed that by combining all the flavors into one scoop would turn it into a questionable gooey mess, but all the delicious tastes attacked him with their splendid individuality. As it melted in his mouth, he identified cookies, strawberries, pistachio, and even rainbow – if that’s what they taste like. He sat there, stunned, until he ate more, and more. The others smiled at each other, proud of what they did, and shoveled ice cream into their own mouths.

Arthur took a break – from achieving brainfreeze – and sat back in his chair.  
“I thought you’d never slow down, bro,” Alfred said, then pointed to his nose. “Ah, you got a little – I got it.” He leaned forward and licked it off. Arthur blushed as he felt his warm tongue playfully poke him, removing the ice cream that had ended up on his face. He was surprised and stared at his nose, then at Alfred. He smiled and Arthur’s cheeks grew extremely hot, despite the cold treat that just filled them. Matthieu put his hands over his heart in awe, and Carlos rolled his eyes. He was obviously upset about how ignorant they were of each other’s feelings.

The fact that they liked each other was showing more than ever, and even strangers at the mall could see it. Everyone knew about it. Except for Arthur and Alfred themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Are you frustrated that they haven't realized it yet? I definitely am. Don't worry.. It'll happen.....eventually.......
> 
> http://www.bruhssia.tumblr.com


	10. Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas day! Arthur and Alfred exchange presents, and words are said. (I am crap at summaries.) This chapter is full of adventures over the last few days of break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> basically fluff and smut prepare yourself
> 
> EDIT: **ANGST I MEANT TO SAY ANGST! I CANNOT WRITE SMUT

The next week passed like it was nothing. Alfred, Arthur, Matthieu, and Carlos often went out to enjoy their holiday, and to introduce Arthur to normal, teenagery things. He picked up on their fashion and their slang, even though his British accent remained, making him sound ridiculous. Alfred and Arthur continued sleeping in the top bunk together, claiming “it was for the body heat”. Arthur was comfortable with Alfred’s arms around his waist, and by then he was sleeping on his chest, dreaming to the sound of his beating heart.

One of the mornings was unusual.

That particular morning was Christmas day.

Alfred woke up early, as always. He couldn’t help it. His body had an internal alarm that told him to get up and be awesome, be a hero. Usually he waited for Arthur to also wake up, which could take up to an hour, but this time, he was impatient.

“Artie, wake up!” Alfred hissed into the sleeping boy's ear. He had called him that ever since the barista at Starbucks spelled his name that way, despite Arthur hating his new nickname.

His eyes instantly snapped open in response to his nickname. He would have smiled at him sweetly, waking up to his beautiful blue eyes, but he got sunshine in his face and frowned at him. “What?”

“Do you know what day it is?” Alfred asked.

“I don’t know…the 25th–”

“The 25th!” He exclaimed, slapping Arthur’s chest.

“Ow!” He sat up, pushing Alfred off him. “What was that for, you idiot?”

Alfred grinned. “To get you up! Don’t be so cranky just because you didn’t get your beauty sleep! You’re cute enough as it is.” Arthur’s cheeks flushed a scarlet red. “It’s the 25th, it’s Christmas! You know what that means? Presents!”

“I thought it was about the birth of Christ–”

“ _Presents!_ ” Alfred repeated. “C’mon, you needa open my gift!”

Arthur slid down the ladder, with Alfred following behind. “Well, don’t think I didn’t get you one either! I stand by a gentleman’s code, you know!”

The two boys sat cross-legging in their pajamas under a mini Christmas tree that Alfred brought in. They had strung up some lights that were now twinkling away in their rainbow-colored bulbs. They turned the radio on, and all stations were playing Christmas songs. The sound of Michael Bublé singing The Christmas Song played softly in the background.

_Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,_

Arthur watched as Alfred pulled some presents out from under the tree. Was this how a Christmas was supposed to be like? It was so simple, so secluded, so serene – he loved it. Just the two of them, spending the holidays together; no need for fancy wardrobes or proper etiquette or greeting guests with a robotic salutation. No one cared about the way he carried himself here, he felt free.

_Jack Frost nipping at your nose,_

They opened their presents together. Clothes and cool products and whatever awesome stuff they could like, it was there. Alfred’s dad had even taken the time to knit them cute matching sweaters, to which Alfred defended with, “Knitting is a useful hobby and us Jones take pride in it.” Soon, they were ankle-deep in torn up wrapping paper.

_Yuletide carols being sung by a choir,_

Alfred opened a box of chocolates and began eating them. “Here, it’s the last present. It’s from me.” Arthur said, sliding a box towards him.

_And folks dressed up like Eskimos,_

Since there were no more presents left, he slowly undid the tape. When he had a small piece to unfold, he revealed a part of the present and gasped. “Oh my God.” He gave up on being patient and ripped open it and screamed. “Artie, you–!” He pulled out a box containing several video games, and even some gaming consoles. He felt kind of bad, even though he was internally screaming. It was too much! How could anyone afford this...? Wait, it was Arthur Kirkland. Right.

_Everybody knows a turkey and some mistletoe,_

“You always talked about how much you love video games, so I got you some I thought you’d like. I wasn’t too sure about the Japanese zombie game, but whatever.” He shrugged. “There’s also an xBox and whatever in there.”

_Help to make the season bright,_

Alfred ditched his present and ran to the storage closet. “Wait, I almost forgot. I have one more present for you!” He yelled from across the dorm. He jogged over to him and handed it to Arthur. “Guess what it is.”

_Tiny tots with their eyes all aglow,_

He turned it over, feeling its wrapped sides and corners, making the Santa hat-themed paper crinkle under his touch. “It feels pretty hard,” He shook it gently, trying to hear its contents. “And it doesn’t shake much; it seems pretty compact. Are you sure you didn’t get me a giant Rubiks cube? Because that would have been funny, but I can’t solve it for shit.” He dropped his arms in defeat. “I give up. May I open it now?”

_Will find it hard to sleep tonight,_

Alfred nodded and sat on the floor next to Arthur as he removed the wrapping paper. He smiled when he heard a small gasp.

_They know that Santa’s on his way,_

“Alfred…you didn’t.”

 _Oh, but I did._ He thought, letting the silence answer for him.

 _He’s loaded lots of toys and goodies on his sleigh,_  
  
“I can’t believe…when? When did you do this?” He asked, flipping through all of his favorite band’s albums. It was too good to be real! Not a single song was missing; they were even the deluxe kind with bonus tracks. His eyes watered when he became nostalgic, thinking about how many times he listened to the songs on repeat.

_And every mother’s child is gonna spy,_

“I secretly bought it.” Alfred said, remembering how he promised he had to go to the Braginskys’ house in January.

_To see if reindeer really know how to fly,_

“This is the best gift ever, you are the best.” Arthur said, throwing his arms around Alfred, pushing him to the floor in a hug. Alfred certainly was a gift. Every day that was spent with him was a daily Christmas.

_And so I’m offering this simple phrase,_

“You actually…you,” Arthur choked between sobs.

“Aw, are you crying?” Alfred smoothed down and brushed away the blond hair that was sticking to his wet cheeks. “All I did was buy you some albums.”

_To kids from one to ninety-two,_

Arthur continued to cry happy tears into Alfred’s shirt. _Well, I did good._ Arthur curled up into a ball in his arms. Alfred grinned. _He’s so tiny and soft…like an…English muffin or something._ Arthur sighed against his stomach. “I love you so much,” He breathed, his words softer than the music playing.

_Although it’s been said many times,_

Alfred tensed up. “W-what?” He asked, trying to contain himself. He felt his stomach crawling up his throat and butterflies fluttering in his heart. He tried not to pee himself in excitement. “What did you say?”

He was answered with snores. He felt Arthur fall asleep and lean all his weight onto him. He sighed, knowing it was a terrible decision to wake up Arthur so _early_ in the morning.

 _Wow, you tell me you love me and you fall asleep because you didn’t get to the full of extent of your sleep._ Alfred thought, grimacing as he tossed Arthur back onto his bed. _Kind of a douche move, you dork._

_Many ways, Merry Christmas to you_

“And I love you too.”

~

“Die, you motherfucker!”

Arthur was dumped into the world of reality, hearing gunfire to his right. He wondered where he was, and checked over the possibilities. No, he couldn't have been on a battle field - it wasn't World War II. He looked over and found Alfred playing his new video games, shooting some computer-generated enemy. Arthur couldn't fathom the idea that people enjoyed playing these types of games.

“Alright, mate, I’m gon’ fuckin’ take ye down if it’s the last thing I do,” Alfred growled, mashing on his controller’s buttons. “I swear on me mum’s life – if that still works – I will fucking wear your damn skin as a hat.”

Alfred’s accent started to resemble the chavs Arthur always ran into, but there was no way he could know or imitate the way they spoke, right?

“Shit!” Alfred screamed as his character was hit and the screen read ‘GAME OVER’.

“I’m guessing you’re enjoying the new games.” Arthur said, grabbing one of the cookies his personal chef sent him from England. Luckily she wasn’t English-born but they still 'tasted kinda funny', according to Alfred.

“Look who finally decided to wake up,” He said, slight annoyance in his voice.

What's got his jimmies all rustled up? Arthur suddenly remembered mumbling those words before passing out. Did he say what he think he did? Did Alfred hear him; is that why he sounded upset? Was he disgusted because Arthur liked him?

“C’mon, sleepyhead, let’s go to the assembly room. The school’s holding a mini Christmas party, and most students came back to stay for the rest of the break.”

They changed into casual but snazzy clothing, as there was no strict dress code during non-school days. Arthur smiled and held out his hand, like a woman expecting her hand to be kissed by a man at an elegant ball.

Alfred saw what he was doing, and took his hand in his usual routine. “That’s a pretentious move, Artie.” They laughed and made their way to the party.

They walked through the open doors and within the first few seconds they arrived, the guy whom Arthur recognized as Sadiq appeared and yelled, “Stop right there!” Arthur was still coming out of his sleepiness, and being so surprised, he screamed.

“W-what?” Alfred asked, holding a shaken Arthur in his arms.

“Look above you,” Heracles said, gesturing up with his chin. He was petting a cat, which was weird because Alfred was pretty sure the school had a no pets rule. However, Headmaster Beilschmidt had dogs and his secretary Feliciano had a cat – Mr. Honda too – even Gilbert had a pet bird, whom he had a strange relationship with.

“What’s above us?” Arthur asked Alfred. He'd seen some strange horror movies. What if there was a dead corpse above them? It wasn't Halloween!

Alfred looked up and smiled. Hanging above them, taped so haphazardly to the ceiling, was mistletoe. Its sharp dark green leaves and crimson berries symbolized the rule it carried: You have to kiss the person next to you.

“It’s…mistletoe!” Alfred said, blushing madly. This would be a great excuse for kissing him! He wanted to kiss him for reals, but he wasn’t sure if Arthur would like it, liking a girl and all.

“M-mistletoe?” Arthur said, also looking up. “Doesn’t that mean–”

“Well, uh, yeah, but–” Alfred started, but was cut off by warm lips and froze up. Sadik and Heracles smirked at each other as Arthur kissed Alfred on the cheek. _Ohmygodohmygodwhatthefuckishappening,_ He screamed in his head. Arthur pulled away and smiled. _Was that friendly or not? Oh, fuck me running, is he trying to torture me?_

“Who should we target next?” Sadiq asked, examining the results of mistletoe on two boys who like each other.

“Definitely Tino and Berwald,” Heracles replied, “There’s gotta be a reason why he calls him his ‘wife.’” They ripped the mistletoe from the ceiling and went to find their next victims.

“Alfred! Arthur!” someone called. They both looked to see Toris walking towards them, waving.

“Hey, Laurinaitis!” Alfred said. “You staying here until break’s over?”

“Yep,” he replied. “Eduard’s at home blogging and Raivis is having a blast without Ivan here.”

“What’s a blast?” Arthur asked. He hated not being raised with American slang! What the hell were they talking about?

Alfred grinned. “Wow, um, I dunno, like a good time.”

“Why tell you when we can _show_ you?” Toris said. “I’ve finally loosened up, so come on! There’s a bunch of cool stuff to do here! Tino organized the Christmas party so it should be great!”

Alfred and Arthur followed him. “Yeah, but when it’s not Christmas, my parties are the best! When humans hear the word ‘hospitality’, they all think about me ‘cause I know how to give a good time!”

It wasn’t Alfred’s parties they attended for the rest of the time, but they certainly had fun. The two were showered by gifts from those they had befriended in the past few months.

One of the last few good moments of the break happened during New Year’s Eve. Alfred introduced noisemakers to Arthur, who stated he preferred the quiet serenity of celebrating the end of a year, but said 'losing your shit over every 365 days was cool too'.

The two leaned on the balcony, spending the last half hour of the year in front of their dorm room, holding glasses of champagne. They snuck it through the staff kitchen, since they were practically the only ones old enough to drink. Arthur was appalled at how high the drinking age was, and wanting to be the one introducing something for once, he poured Alfred a drink. It was a fine batch, much smoother than the ales Arthur secretly drank on the nights his father didn’t ignore him and instead constantly abuse him to mark his unsaid words.

“Hey, Alfred,” Arthur said, swirling the sparkling liquid in his glass, watching it slosh along the edges, “Can I ask you a question? I’ll let you ask one back.”

“Sure.” Alfred wasn't sure what he would ask, but he would answer truthfully. If he asked who he liked, he  _might_ confess. Might.

“I don’t know much about your life back home. Tell me about your family. What’s a real, loving family like?”

It was almost a simple question, except for the last part that made it emotional to answer. He could sugarcoat it and tell it like the families you see on TV, or he could tell it like it is and explain how families get through. Either way, Arthur probably would have been jealous. Silly bickering between family members would be ideal to him. _He needs a family,_ Alfred thought. _I’ll give him one. I’ll be his family._

“Well, my dad’s a doctor. A lot of my family works in the medical field, but I want to live for the adventure. Dig up some fossils or design some sick game, you know. Anyway, he mostly does his business at our apartment upstate. It’s a small place, but man, our old home was huge. Sometimes I’d get lost and I’d have to call my mom to get me.”

“You don’t talk about your mother a lot.” Arthur said, taking a sip.

“Uh, my mom was a nurse, no surprise there. People liked her because she was, like, pretty. She was real beautiful. She had hair like mine, a color so indescribable, but longer and curly like Matthieu’s. My old friends would call her hot, and naturally I wouldn’t agree because that’d be weird, but I’d see why my dad fell in love with her. She was nice, and funny, and she was the one that told me I didn’t have to be a surgeon.”

“Is there a reason why you switched to past tense words?” Arthur was treading on thin ice now, but hopefully Alfred wouldn’t be able to handle the alcohol and not remember the next day. And besides, he deserved to know. He was the only one who knew about his past, so why couldn’t he know about Alfred’s?

“Unfortunately, there is. She was an angel, Arthur. Angels aren’t allowed to stay on Earth so long; God called her back to Heaven. She got sick. Real sick. None of the medical geniuses in our family could figure out what was wrong with her; what a shame. All we could do was feed her medicine and watch her go. I always thought she was beautiful, even when she was deathly pale and never left the bed. It was like this for months, almost a year. It was sucking on our funds, and our relatives gave up on her; they just left us on our own. It was horrible seeing my mom like this. The week before she died I heard her talking with Dad. They were talking about how much they loved each other, and Mom said, and I quote, ‘Alfred and Matthieu will soon find someone they love the way I love you. Make sure you support our boys no matter what.’ That was the most she said before she finally passed away.

“I remember holding my dad’s hand at the funeral. I was still pretty young, but old enough to understand, and old enough to try and keep it in. It was no use because I fell apart the moment I saw my own dad crying. My dad is a strong and excellent father, let me tell you. Matthieu was even worse. He was only 4, barely old enough to hold on to any real memories of our mother. I stayed to watch her get buried, long after the doves flew away into the sky, long after it was raining and making me numb. I stood there even though I could have gotten sick like my mama. My dad went back into the church to find Matthieu. He was absolutely devastated. He ran back and got on his knees and prayed, begging God to bring her back. I knew it wouldn’t happen. He knew too. I followed my dad and found him at the other side. I was gonna tell him to get Matt when I saw him. I couldn’t stand to tear him down even more.” He paused to take a long swig from his glass, and refilled it when he drained the last drop. “He wouldn’t talk to anyone, not even me. He locked himself in his room for a whole month, and I snuck him bits of food under the door.” He chuckled, only half-heartedly. “Whenever I pressed my ear to his door, I heard him crying. It was horrible. He was always so happy and carefree, kinda like he is now, but without the emotional baggage. Dad bought him a stuffed polar bear for comfort, and one night I heard him singing to it. He was singing one of the lullabies our mom used to sing. It was heartbreaking. He even named his bear. Though I think he always forgets it, but who wants to remember stuff from those times? My dad couldn’t handle it either. He hated the house, saying its big, empty rooms were haunted by her. We moved out, the other reason being we were losing money. Honestly I don’t know how much we spent when my mom got sick and after she died, but we were about to lose our home. We left before the bank could take it. My dad started working harder and longer hours to scrape up enough money to send us here. My hopes are now replaced with preparations for being a surgeon. Matthieu is becoming a biomedical engineer. My mom told me I could do whatever I want, but now that she’s gone, I can’t. I have no more dreams because I’m working to help me and Matthieu and Dad. He forced me onto the medical track and told me, ‘You can’t dream in a dead body.’ I’m guessing that means once I get through this surgeon stuff, I can finally achieve the things I wanna do. It seems so far ahead in time, though.”

Alfred deeply sighed, staring into the black sky. Arthur quickly wiped away a tear. “Jesus Christ,” was all he could say. Who knew this guy was carved from all this?

“You said I could ask one back.”

“Pardon? Oh, yeah. Go ahead.”

“Who was that girl? You know, the one that you bumped into at the mall?”

Arthur jerked, losing his grip on his glass. It fell from his hand and through the air, finally smashing onto the pavement three stories below. It made a ringing crash, traveling throughout the empty hallways. Alfred withdrew a little bit. Whatever triggered Arthur, was definitely bad. There was no petty drama in his life.

“To be honest, I don’t know. That nameless girl, she was Francis’ first girlfriend. She was the first and last girl he ever truly loved, more like it. Believe it or not, there was a time when Francis and I were friends. We had our differences, but everyone does, right? He always beat me in everything. Cooking, fashion, whatever. He was one of the only people who were also treated badly by my father, but he had a minuscule soft spot for him. I started getting angry at him when he told me he wanted to take over Kirkland Corporation. That was when our little competition began. While we were still mates with each other, he met her. Sure, she was pretty, but I knew something was wrong. Francis fell head over heels for that fake image. I stayed in France that summer, and I saw her at his house more and more. He always showered her with gifts, even though she gave nothing in return. One time Francis and I were studying in his room, and she stood in the doorway and demanded he take her shopping. She bought a red dress that she wore on dates with other guys. Francis suspected something, but he would never listen to me when I told him she was cheating on him. Then that bitch straight-up told him she never loved him and was only using him for his money. He was so heartbroken he didn’t notice how much she took out of his checking account before leaving for good.” Arthur sighed. “I don’t know when exactly it happened, but he changed. I guess he thought, ‘If I don’t have a heart, it won’t be broken.’ He dated several girls after that. We were barely friends and he’d always ditch me for some new bimbo. I called him a lustful bastard and it was the end of that. I think it was the last time I ever saw some emotion from him. He looked kind of hurt. Well, it’s too late to apologize, right?”

Alfred said nothing. This wasn’t some sob story like his, but it was bizarre how one girl changed the both of them.

“We still do compete against each other, distantly. Like for the business. But I finally beat him in the game of love. I found someone I truly love, not just to get in their pants.” He smiled at Alfred.

He went pale, paler than what the moonshine made him. _He…loves her?_ Alfred thought. _I let myself fall in love in with Arthur, and after all this time, he still likes this girl?_

Arthur glanced at his watch. “Hey, Alfred, it’s 11:59 pm. Instead of exchanging intense stories about our past, let’s enjoy this last minute of the year.”

The 60 seconds went by slowly. But as expected, the sky was filled with fireworks and the air vibrating with cheers. The remaining students screamed and rejoiced on campus, while other celebrations took place in the homes nearby their school.

Arthur smiled. _It’s a new year._ He thought. _I really do think things are going to change._ He looked over to Alfred, who was watching the fireworks. The vibrant colors were mirrored in the reflections of his glasses, sparkling in the blue pool of his eyes. _Starting with him._

Alfred closed his eyes and thought of a resolution. He almost never followed them, especially with the bullshit “I’m going to start eating healthier!”.

_I, Alfred F. Jones, have made it my goal to become friends with Arthur Kirkland. And inevitably, I have fallen in love with him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOH SUCH ANGST WHAT IS THAT GIRL'S NAME???  
> [TBH IDK BUT MY SISTER SUGGESTED JEANNE D'ARC  
> BUT LIKE THAT'S TOO EMOTIONAL FOR ME TO WRITE]


	11. Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alfred pays a visit to some...friends.

The Christmas break ended following the start of the New Year. The halls were filled with students once again, the classrooms crowded with bodies. Gossip was being exchanged, like who kissed whom on New Year’s Eve, what presents they received, and whose aunt got super drunk at that one party.

It was lunchtime, and Arthur sat at the table with Roderich, Elizabeta, Lili, and Vash. It was the usual group – except one person was missing.

“I can’t believe you kissed Gilbert! Don’t you know any better?” Roderich scolded Elizabeta. “What’s so great about him? He always annoys me in music class. He's been a demon douche since we were little. Remember when he tried to touch your chest in like elementary school?”

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. “You have no control over who I kiss or date or anything. Besides, if you think you know better, why didn’t _you_ kiss me?”

As far as Arthur knew, the three of them were childhood friends. He heard something about Gilbert mistaking Elizabeta for a boy when they first met, and she played with Roderich who had unstable relations with Vash, but when Lili grew up she hung out with Elivabeth and Roderich, but Vash and Gilbert didn’t like each other – it was all very complicated. It was a wonder why all of them were pretty good friends. However her last comment stopped Roderich in his tracks and his cheeks burned bright red.

Elizabeta chose to ignore him and saw Arthur fidgeting in his seat. “Hey, Arthur, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know where Alfred is. He couldn’t have forgotten break is over; it’s already the 7th.”

Lili smiled. “Oh, this is about Alfred,” She purred.

“What?” He asked defensively, and then mocked Lili’s tone. “What’s ‘about Alfred?’“

“You two are so oblivious.” Vash said flatly. He was a very straight-forward person. “No wonder why you like each other.”

Before Arthur could horribly fail to deny it, Roderich stated, “Oh, please. It’s so obvious. I can tell when someone has a crush.” He glared at Elizabeta.

“A-Al doesn’t like me.”

“Can you stop being an idiot for a second?” Roderich said. “He likes you, and you like him.”

“He told me he likes another boy, though–”

Vash interrupted him again. He wasn’t exactly rude, but he wasn’t extremely polite either. It was like everyone was his enemy and ally. “You didn’t tell Alfred you like him, so what makes you think he’d tell you he likes you?”

Roderich agreed with Vash. “See, someone gets it. He probably just panicked and said he liked someone else instead of you.”

Arthur considered their words. They had a point, but it was too good to be true. He couldn’t believe Alfred could like him. What was so great about him?

Finally, he said, “That’s a nice theory, but it doesn’t answer my question. Does anyone know where Alfred is?”

~

Where was he indeed?

 _This is awkward. So, so awkward._ Alfred thought. Not a word was spoken in the room; the only noises heard were pots and pans clanging and food sizzling. He couldn’t pull the antisocial go-on-your-phone move because Ivan told him it was a custom in their house to not have phones out around eating time. He was a hypocrite because he was sitting on the other couch in the living room, talking on the phone. He couldn’t understand him because Ivan was speaking Russian, or some other foreign language. He was somewhat jealous. All his life he was taught English.

He didn’t recognize a single word, until he heard 'Alfred' and 'Arthur' in his speech. It was the only words that he recognized.

He looked up at the sound of his name. “What was that?”

“What was what?” Ivan asked innocently.

“Don’t play dumb,” He jeered. “You clearly said Arthur’s and my name.”

“I simply told a friend you at my house.” He replied. “And that you like that Kirkland boy.”

“Wha – how do you know?!” Alfred questioned. He didn’t tell anyone he liked Arthur, but he certainly wouldn’t deny it.

“Anyone can see it, Jones. Even Mr. Wang mentioned it in class today, and he’s ancient.” Ivan stated.

Alfred didn’t reply. A door slamming was heard in the distance and a voice called out, “Natalya, I am bringing the flour!” Katyusha poked her head in and saw Alfred on the couch. “Oh, is Arthur not here? I thought he’d be coming too.”

“Am I really that obvious?” Alfred asked.

Natalya walked into the dining room and set some plates down. “Yes, and I am sure Arthur likes you back. He is in my class and he talks about you a bunch.”

Ivan helped set the table and Natalya went back into the kitchen. “When are you going to tell him?”

“Tell him?!”

“Nat told me you agreed to this lunch just for Arthur,” Katyusha said. “He should know how much you care.”

“B-but he likes a girl!” Alfred exclaimed, and was answered with a chorus of laughter. “What?”

“He lies,” Natalya said, setting plates of food onto the table. “What girl could he possibly like?”

“I don’t know, Elizabeta, Lili – I’m not the one who likes someone else!”

“Those two have their overprotective male figures. You do not have a chance with either of them.” Ivan said flatly.

“Lunch is ready.” Natalya ordered.

“Why does this look like dinner?” Alfred asked, observing the fancy get-up. “We’re eating lunch.”

“What do you eat for lunch?” Natalya hissed.

“Like, a sandwich, maybe like, pizza or something.”

“That is because you are American.”

Alfred felt like asking why only Ivan was Russian and his sisters were not, even though they were full-blood siblings, but it probably wouldn’t have gone down well.

It was good food, anyway. Not exactly his favorite, but it was good. It had this weird taste to it. He was getting full of one dish, which was unbelievable for Alfred, who ate a lot. Apparently the Braginsky trio ate a lot more. _This isn’t so bad,_ He thought. _Ivan isn’t_ that _scary, but that’s because Natalya keeps freaking him out._

“You need to tell Arthur you like him.” Natalya announced.

“Why?!” Alfred asked. He _did_ want to tell him, but how?

“It is annoying how you and Alfred like each other but do not do anything about it. It is seriously pissing everyone off. Matthieu always tells me you are his ‘OTP’ or the something. Even the 4th years and staff have noticed.”

“I can’t just tell him out of nowhere!” Alfred said. His palms grew sweaty at the thought of confessing. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ivan take out a flask. “Wait, why are you drinking?”

“Oh, he’s had a drinking problem ever since we were the little.” Katyusha said as if it were nothing.

 _Damn these foreign people and their low drinking age!_ Alfred screamed in his mind.

Ivan took a heartily swig and stuffed the flask back into his coat pocket. “You need to be telling him in the sometime.” He spoke in broken English.

“Okay, fine, if I’m in a situation where I have an opportunity to tell him, what do I say? What do I do?”  
The three shrugged.

“Don’t tell me to tell him if you don’t know what to do!” Alfred shrieked. He really, really wanted to tell Arthur he liked him, but when would there be an opening?

“I am sorry, Alfred, we cannot help you.” Katyusha said. “It really all depends on you. But I think it would be cute to kiss him while you are at it.”

Alfred blushed. How could he kiss him if he became as stiff as a board when he felt Arthur’s lips on his cheek? “W-why?”

“If he tries to protest it’ll shut him up.” Ivan said. “A gag works best, though.” He grinned wickedly. Alfred stared at him in fear.

“Oh, lunch ends in about 30 minutes. We should get going back.” Katyusha said.

~

It was the last 10 minutes of lunch, and the bell rang, signifying the passing period. The halls were nearly empty, so Alfred spotted a certain someone from far away.

He ran after him, taking off with such impressive speed. He did eat a lot and only worked out when he saw little wrinkles of fat on his body, but in times of emergencies he could run very quickly or lift abnormal amounts of weight. One time while swimming he was told he moved like a shark, making it impossible for others to beat him in races in the water.

“Hey, Francis.”

The long-haired blond turned around at the sound of his name. Gilbert and Antonio stopped too, but remained a few feet away. His eyes glazed over him, sizing him up to see if he was worth his time. Within a few seconds he smiled, suddenly turning into a flirty sweetheart. “Hi, Alfred! Long time, no see!” They used to be kind-of-friends back in middle school, when Francis was the new kid. Naturally they grew apart, becoming interested in different things.

“I wanted to ask you something.” Alfred sheepishly said.

“I’m never single, mon ami. Désolé, but you’ll always be my best gay friend.” Those words hurt more than it sounded. There was a time when he adored Francis, but it was in the past. He would have had his heart broken, anyway.

“It’s not about that…” He continued, twiddling his thumbs. “I wanted to know about _her_ …”

“ _Her_ –” He started, and the death glare returned to his face. He grabbed Alfred by his collar and slammed him against the lockers, a loud thump between skin and metal. “Who told you? It was Arthur, wasn’t it?”

“I know what she did–”

“You know nothing! Don’t ever bring her up!” Francis shouted. He swung his fist at Alfred’s face. He moved barely enough to dodge the hit, and the locker behind him took the full impact. _Sorry, owner of Locker #8785, your door has a huge dent in it._

Francis cursed, which still sounded romantic in French, and threw the shaken Alfred into Gilbert’s arms. “Do you want to know the pain she caused me – she caused us? You don’t even need to know her name, Alfred, it was as fake as her lies.” Alfred could have sworn he saw tears forming in Francis’ eyes, but maybe not since he was in panic mode. Gilbert was too, because he wasn’t laughing or taunting. He was paralyzed and held Alfred in his clutches. They watched Francis massage his knuckles and say, “What it felt like – it felt like a punch to the stomach!” His fist connected with his abdomen, and he doubled over, stumbling to the ground with Gilbert still gripping Alfred’s wrists, stunned.

“And a slap to the face!” He did not merely smack his face, but full-on punched him in the nose. He felt something crack and blood leaked out and seeped in between his lips, tasting the metallic bitterness on his tongue.

He knelt beside Alfred and growled, “That was barely the beginning.” Alfred tightly shut his eyes, waiting for the next move.

“Francis, don’t!” Antonio called, and tackled him, keeping him from attacking Alfred. Antonio gave him a look so empathetic it calmed Alfred down, but it didn’t work on Francis.

“What the hell happened to you, Toni?!” He barked. “You’ve gotten so fucking soft ever since you started going out with Lovino! Stop being such a pathetic, gay pussy!”

His words echoed, and each time the sound waves bounced and repeated themselves, it got worse.  
Francis drew back. “Antonio, I–”

“I didn’t know you would be so despicable.” He said, voice shaking, and ran in the opposite direction. He disappeared around the corner and Alfred saw tears running down his face.

Gilbert snapped back into reality, and dropped Alfred to the ground. He landed on his hip where a loose bolt had dug into his skin, and he winced. Gilbert gave a pitiful look. “Francis,” was all he said, and followed after Antonio.

“Wait, Gil, Toni–” He started to run after them, but Alfred quickly got to his feet and grabbed Francis’ hand.

“See, you love _them_.”

He shook off Alfred’s hand. “Shut up,” He said, before running after Antonio and Gilbert, leaving Alfred hunched over and clutching his side in the corridor. The bell rang, informing him he was late for class. _Well, I might as well skip class if I’m already tardy._ He hobbled to his dorm room, pinching the bridge of his sore, bloody nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why is this chapter called Visit? Is it because he visited the Braginskys, or that he visited the BTT? Tbh, I don't know. Chapter titles are my weakness.


	12. Mama Arthur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (This is the true Chapter 13) Arthur finds out that Alfred got into a fight. That is all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK SO I JUST REALIZED THAT I UPLOADED THE WRONG CHAPTER SO THERE WAS AN AWKWARD JUMP. I'M SO SORRY I'M HORRIBLE

Arthur paced back and forth in front of Alfred’s classroom. Their rooms were right next to each other, so it’s not like he could have missed him. What if Alfred was avoiding him? Had Arthur done something wrong? _  
_

He saw one of Alfred’s friends and waved at him as he walked out of the classroom. “Hello, Feliks–” He was cut short when he saw him wearing the school uniform for girls, a short plaid dress hidden under a tan vest, along with little stockings. He became light-headed staring at his disturbingly attractive legs. “I, uh, have you seen Alfred? I didn’t see him at lunch.”

“Oh, hi, Arthur. Um, he like, wasn’t here after lunch either. It was like, weird because he was like, here earlier.”

“He didn’t come to class?!” Arthur screeched. “Where could he be?!” Another one abandoned him, leaving him alone in the world he’d finally come to appreciate.

“You should check his dorm. You can’t like, leave the campus unless it’s like, for lunch, but that’s only if you have a car or something.” He said. “Good luck finding him. Hi, Toris!” He joined his friend, who muttered, “Why are your legs so freakishly smooth?”

Arthur stormed over to their dorm room. At first he was sad, because he felt Alfred didn’t think he meant as much as he thought him, but then he was mad, because _how dare he ditch him_ , but then he was sad again, because he ditched him. By the time he climbed up the flights of stairs, he was mad again.

 _I’m gonna give him a mouthful,_ He angrily thought. _I tell ‘im more than my father ever told me!_

A sudden realization hit him: _Shit, since I’m always with him I never brought my keys._ A new feeling rose within him. _Dammit, I rely on him too much! I need to become independent!_ He noticed the door was already wide open.

“Alfred?” He asked timidly. He saw something move, which was his cue to make a scene. “Alfred F–” _Fuck, I don’t even know his full name!_ “A–Alfred Jones, where the hell have you–”

He looked down, and immediately regretted trying to yell at him. Alfred was curled up into a ball, clutching a bucket in his arms that was slowly being filled with throw up.

“Oh, hi, Arthur.” He tried to sit up but remained on the floor.

“Jesus Christ, what the hell happened? And please start with where you were at lunch.”

“Oh, well, I was at the Braginskys’–”

“ _Why._ ” It was a half-innocent, half-I-was-furious-how-could-you-leave-me response.

“You see, in order to get you your Christmas present, I had to promise Natalya to come over for lunch. No big deal.” Arthur was appalled. He went through all that just to get him some albums? It was…adorable.

“Oh. That’s really nice of you to do that. Did the food make your stomach upset? I could get some anti-acid pills, or something.”

“Last time I checked, food doesn’t give you a broken nose.”

“Wait, what?!” Arthur said, and turned on a nearby lamp. Alfred’s face was a swollen purple, and his nose was too gross-looking to support his glasses.

“I just wanted to know her name.”

“ _Francis_ did this?!” Arthur ran into the bathroom and brought back some towels to pat his bloody face with. “God, I swear I’m gonna kill him one day…”

“Francis doesn’t really hate you.” Arthur tensed up. That was the same thing Antonio told him. _“No one really hates you, Arthur. Not even Francis.”_ He’d said.

“What?”

Before he could answer, he regurgitated a little into the bucket. “He doesn’t hate you, Arthur. I think he wishes to be friends with you again.”

“Did he beat that into you or something?!”

“You said that it was basically her fault. It’s not like he really hates you.”

Arthur chose to ignore his response. “How bad is it?” He asked, helping Alfred into a sitting position.

“Bad enough to make some good Russian food come out the other end.”

Arthur sighed. “C’mon, let’s patch you up.” He half-carried, half-dragged him into the bathroom. “Let me how bad he got you. Take off your shirt.”

Alfred pouted. “Fine, I’ll do it.” He slowly guided his arms out of his sweater and unbuttoned his shirt. He saw a small splash of red on it. “Did you hit you that hard?” Arthur had received beatings that would make him bleed, but Francis wasn’t as strong.

“No, there was a loose screw, or something…ow.” Arthur removed his shirt and they both saw it cut deep into his skin.

Arthur got some rubbing alcohol and a cotton ball. “We have to clean it, Al,” He said. “It looks pretty bad and we don’t want it to get infected.” He dabbed at it and Alfred hissed, gritting his teeth. It felt as bad as it looked. It certainly hurt if a metal screw gave you a good gash.

Arthur accidentally touched Alfred’s bare stomach, and he sharply inhaled. “That sensitive, huh? It’s gonna bruise really bad and it’ll be just as painful.”

“Look at you, being the doctor.”

“Trust me, I’ve got experience – I know an injury when I see one.” Arthur joked, and laughed. Alfred only felt bad. “And I can tell your nose is dislocated. We have to take you to the nurse.”

“No!” Alfred yelled.

“Why?”

“I can’t, I can’t trust them anymore! They never found out what was wrong with Mom, after all this time.”

Arthur sighed. “How could _I_ help? What can _I_ do?”

“Anything, Artie! I’ll do anything if it’s for you!” He begged.

“Hold still.” He ordered. Arthur placed himself in Alfred’s lap, wrapping his legs around him. He looked Alfred straight in the eye. “Focus on me.”

“I can do that, but wha–” He screamed in pain, concentrating on the greens of Arthur’s eyes as he forced his nose back into place. “Fuck, Arthur!” He shouted, desperately trying to get away from him.

“I said, hold _still_!” He ground into Alfred, keeping him pinned as he adjusted his nose. “There, I’m done. Good as new.”

Tears sprang into Alfred’s eyes. It hurt, it hurt so much. “T-thank you,” He sobbed. Arthur helped him lay down on the couch and gave him medicine to help his stomach. He looked at Alfred, who looked miserable, but even while sick, whenever he smiled it made him swoon. _Bollocks, a punch made his stomach get all messed up._

“Hey, Arthur?” He asked.

“Yeah?”

“I know you’re about to do your homework and stuff, but do you mind sitting next to me?” Alfred said. “It’ll make me feel better.”

“You didn’t have to give me a reason, Al,” Arthur said, and plopped down on the couch. He pulled his math textbook onto the table before checking on Alfred. He swept his hair away from his sweaty forehead. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’ve felt better. Thanks for taking care of me, bro.”

“I’ve learned to look after myself. Do you think you can go to school tomorrow?”

“Yeah, sure. I don’t wanna ditch you again.”

Arthur blushed. He regretted acting so selfish. “Alright, then get some rest, okay?” Alfred leaned over and set his head in Arthur’s lap, snuggling up to his body. “Goodnight, Arthur.”

“G’night, Mom.” He was gone.

“Did you just call me Mom?” Arthur asked a sleeping Alfred, knowing he was already off in dreamland. “What does that mean?” He said aloud. “Am I a caring mother figure? In that case, I can say I love you.” He kissed Alfred on top of his head, and started his homework, tapping his pencil against the table while Alfred snored away on his thigh. “You don’t know how much I’d choose you over parabolas.”


	13. The Start of a Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which tensions are building and everyone confesses that their frustration is mainly caused by Alfred and Arthur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry I neglected this fic! I'm sorry if it's kinda boring; I already wrote the next few chapters, and there's like one exciting point. Currently writer's block is eating at me.
> 
> EDIT: This is not a new chapter. In fact, a new chapter was wedged in the middle of the story! We have a new Chapter 7: Teahouse. Please reread the entire fic for I have changed a lot of stuff! It basically develops more on Alfred and Arthur. Also important: Arthur's mom died after his birth and he and his father blames himself for that, and Erika (Liechtenstein) is now Lili.
> 
> EDIT 2: again, not a new chapter. i messed up again lol. i uploaded the wrong chapter like way long ago.

Arthur woke up on the couch with a still-sleeping Alfred in his lap. He’d finished all his homework before passing out, which was good. The morning was too peaceful to do last-minute work. He yawned, and stretched his sore arms. He tried to gently push Alfred’s head off of his legs when he suddenly realized that he should have been wide awake at this hour.

He lightly flicked at the sleeping boy’s cheeks, trying to avoid the parts of his face where it wasn’t swelling and turning shades of green and purple. “Hey, Al?” He asked nervously. “I’m actually up before you! Did you die?” He relaxed when he heard groans from Alfred.

Alfred sat up, and clenched at his side, inhaling sharply. “Ow, it still hurts.” He looked extremely tired. He looked worse than if Arthur got to sleep his full 10 hours, which was quite annoying since he was cranky if he was woken up early and still got more sleep than half the academy. Arthur stared blankly at him. He said, resembling Arthur’s scratchy morning voice, “What?”

“Y-your face!” He screamed in horror. “I mean, I’m not being rude, but…”

“I’ll just say I dropped my phone on my face.” Alfred said nonchalantly. “It happens so often no one will think it’s a lie.”

“I, uh, I don’t think you understand.” Arthur replied, taking him to the full length mirror next to the dresser and stood behind Alfred.

“How bad is it – oh.” He gingerly touched his cheek and quickly withdrew his hand, hissing through his teeth. He inspected his swelling face. “Ow, that definitely will bruise.” Soon enough he became distracted and examined the rest of his face, commenting how he could feel a pimple forming.

Arthur grimaced at how easily Alfred could smile in a serious situation. In a way, it was comforting, but he was worried. _Ignorance is bliss…_ He thought. _How can he be so happy all the damn time? He just got beat up by Francis!_ Francis… _He’s really strong, Jesus. He did this? It’d be best if we avoid him for now._

Alfred backed up from the mirror and turned to Arthur. “Well, I can’t go out looking like this!” He said, as if it wasn’t obvious. “If I walk out the door looking this ugly, I might as well say goodbye to my reputation.” Arthur wanted to drop-kick him. Now wasn’t the time to be so narcissistic – well, there is never a time to be. “No worries, dude. I’ll just call Łukasiewicz to come over. He has a lot of makeup.” He saw Arthur’s confused look and shrugged. “I dunno, don’ ask.”

* * *

Feliks strolled in, wearing a hot pink skirt and matching hot pink nails, making it impossible not to stare. He did have unusually nice legs for a guy, anyway. A very worried Toris walked in behind him.

“Nice mani,” Alfred commented.

“Thanks! I had Toris help.” He said, then glided over to where Alfred stood. “Let’s see what we have here. No worries, I can like, totally fix this.” He dumped bags of brushes, powders, and varying skin toned-color containers onto a table. Within a few minutes, most of it was concealed, but it wasn’t enough to cover the bruise’s palette of strange colors.

“I have to say,” Feliks whispered. “This was harder than when Toris got a giant scar on his back.”

“Thank you so much,” Arthur said, examining Alfred’s face from different angles, checking to see if everything was spread evenly. He felt like he was the only one being serious about this. He really did feel like a mother figure in this moment.

“May I ask what happened?” Toris said.

Arthur looked at Alfred, who said, “I got into a fight with Bonnefoy.” He explained in further detail but left out the physical grotesqueness and of course, her.

Toris scratched his wrists, something he did when he got stressed, which he did a lot. “Gosh, you should really tell Headmaster Beilschmidt. No form of bullying can escape him. Gilbert technically assisted, or was a bystander, so he’ll definitely be in trouble.”

“I can handle it myself.” Alfred slowly put on his glasses to avoid wiping off any foundation or hitting his tender nose.

“Alfred, you can’t be the hero all the time!”

“You need to stop fretting over everything all the time!” He shot back. Awkward silence filled the room.  
Feliks, being the icebreaker, checked his phone. “Um, we better get going. Mr. Long was like, totally super pissed when Alfred disappeared for the second half of class.”

* * *

Arthur walked into Mr. Honda’s class, leaving Feliks to handle the strange tension growing between Alfred and Toris. They both had agreeable points. He was dragging everyone into this Arthur-Francis mess, and it was getting out of hand. But again, it was really only between him and Francis.

He said hello to his friends and sat at his desk. Immediately, he felt the surge of Roderich’s mental ticking time bomb. He looked so flustered, his hair uncombed, his clothes a little wrinkled, and his glasses were missing. It didn’t matter since he could still see without them.

While Mr. Honda’s back was turned, Arthur leaned backwards and whispered to Lili. “Hey, what’s wrong with Roderich? Did he not drink enough coffee?”

“He’s really mad about the whole Gilbert-Elizabeta thing. I would see why. Gilbert and Roderich fight a lot but they’re still really close, like they love to hate each other, and then Gilbert asked out Elizabeta even though he knew Roderich kind of liked her.” Lili explained. “If you can see, Elizabeta’s tense too.”

He glanced at Elizabeta, and wished he hadn’t. She wasn’t even looking directly at him and he felt her glare stab him in the chest. She looked ready to blow, like she would kill you with just a frying pan. She was probably only annoyed, where Roderich appeared to be plotting murders, but her expression was much scarier.

That day they did a science lab, where they experimented with live bacteria. Usually Roderich and Elizabeta worked together but this time they chose their partners separately, Roderich with Lili and Arthur with Elizabeta. Elizabeta worked with such burning passion Arthur barely did anything.  
Elizabeta looked into the microscope. “Hey, Arthur.”

“Y-yes?” He answered. He didn’t want to be caught in her wrath.

“This is probably inappropriate, but I felt like I needed to tell you, and Roderich wouldn’t listen to me since it involved Gilbert.” In the distance the sound of glass breaking was heard. Roderich broke yet another petri dish and Lili scolded him for being so distracted.

“I know what happened with Alfred yesterday.” She said. “That’s why he kind of looks like shit this morning, yes?”

“Feliks is a good make-up artist, really.”

She laughed. “Listen, I don’t know who ‘she’ is–”

“I don’t know either–”

“I know. No one knows except for Francis, and I don’t think he’s willing to share her identity.”  
“It’s all my fault, isn’t it? I told Alfred and he asked Francis about it and then he got all mad and then called out on Antonio and he started crying and ran away–”

“It’s fine, Arthur. Antonio and Francis made up. Gilbert tells me they have an undesirable but inseparable relationship.”

“By the way, what’s going on between you and Gilbert and Roderich?”

“Roderich’s mad I’m dating Gil.”

“Mad as in…”

“‘Why would you date him, Liv? He’s been such a bully, how could you?!’“ Elizabeta said, mocking Roderich. “He’s been my best friend since childhood…it’s weird for both of us to have another guy in our life.”

“Maybe he’s jealous.” Arthur suggested.

“Yeah, maybe. You’re so lucky. No one’s getting in the way of you and Alfred.”

“Huh?! What do you mean by that?” He exclaimed, nearly spilling the next specimen. As he filled out the data tables, he said, “We’re not together!”

“Not _yet_. Come on, what’s stopping you lovebirds? You know, Gil used to be friends with Alfred, and he’s telling me he’s never seen him so in love.”

“Do you really think he likes me? I’m not seeing it.”

“That’s because you’re not looking when _he_ looks. You should really see him. He’s really into you. That one time the school served _good_ pizza for lunch, it was like he was getting full off of your smiles.”

Arthur blushed. He remembered he could barely swallow his slice because he kept grinning. His cheeks hurt so much, but Alfred’s contagious smiles were hard to resist. “I guess everyone sees it–”

“Except for you two! I swear, you are the biggest idiots I know. How do you not see you have a thing going on?”

“I don’t know if Alfred knows he likes me. Are you sure he likes me?”

Matthieu barged in. “Of course he does! You need to get together! The feels are killing me! It’s not weird if you ship your brother, eh?”

“Pardon?”

Carlos appeared beside Matthieu. “Don’t mind him. He’s a fangirl at heart. Hey, can we borrow your sample of salmonella? Someone broke the last one.”

Lili stormed over to their forming group at their lab counter. “Are we talking about Roderich? Liv, you need to fix this now. He’s going absolutely ballistic over this. He’s getting scarier than Vash.”

“How am I supposed to fix this?” Elizabeta hissed. “Break up with Gilbert? There is no problem. He has the problem.”

Lili sighed, knowing she was right. “He wasn’t so mad when he was talking about Arthur and Alfred.”  
Arthur cut in. “Wait, just how often do all of you talk about me and Alfred?!”

Lili ignored him and continued. “Maybe this is something you call ‘killing two birds with one stone.’"

Arthur piped up again, “Is that a metaphor? What the bloody hell is that? Is that something to do with _To Kill a Mockingbird_?”

“If we can put our heads together, and restore Liv’s and Rod’s friendship, we can also get Arthur and Alfred to get together.” Matthieu nodded excitedly.

Arthur said, “Wait, when was this a plan to get us together?”

They noticed him for once. They gave him a look that said “oh please, don’t tell me you don’t want it to happen”.

Mr. Honda shuffled over to the chattering crowd and poked his head in. He was shorter than everyone, save for Lili; no one saw him until he spoke up. “Excuse me, I hate to interrupt, but I would appreciate it if you get back to your experiments. Arigato.”

It was a perfect opportunity to be sassy, but Mr. Honda was too nice to be mean to. He also had a very strict side, so it was best to follow what he says.

Everyone finished their labs and properly disposed of the materials and washed their hands, like a good scientist should do. The clean-up procedure went through smoothly.

“I guess we can agree we work best when it comes to Arthur and Alfred.” Roderich said as he and Elizabeta stacked up the washed petri dishes.

“It seems so.” Elizabeta replied. “Until they are in a relationship, you are to leave Gilbert out of this. I don’t care whatever conflicts you two have, I’m not part of it. Deal?” She held out her hand.

“Deal.” He extended his own hand and they shook in agreement.

“Ow.” She said, massaging her hand after. Lili’s eyes widened. Elizabeta was a very strong girl, with extreme strength hidden under her pretty dresses. Roderich was almost the opposite. He preferred the inside life and passed the music section of school with flying colors. Elizabeta was more fit than him, and probably more than Gilbert too, as much as he liked to brag about how much he could lift.

But right this moment, Roderich had summoned all of his anger and released it on his grip on her hand. Lili felt something was bad, it was wrong. She hoped it would be back to normal soon.

Roderich cleared his throat and their little crew gathered around and started whispering, mumbling about what they were going to do to get them together.

“Hey, don’t leave me out of this!” Arthur yelled.

“It won’t be as fun if you’re in on it too!”


	14. Pre-February Fest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's nearly February, and W Academy has gone into preparation mode for their famous festival! And it seems like this operation thing is a real thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully I didn't mess up the chapter order again! We're nearing the climax, and I've been trying to transition from that to the near end! Gah.

"February Fest?" Arthur asked. It had been a few days since Alfred was attacked, and his nose was shrinking to its intended size. It was still deemed unsafe to wear his glasses, so he squinted at the flyer he held in his hands. Arthur had to peer over his shoulder to see what he was looking at.

"Yep, it happens every year. It's a great festival, I tell you." He replied.

"I can see that, by the way everyone's getting in a hype over it. What's so special about this festival that the school needs a month to prepare for?"

"Oh, Arthur," Alfred sighed.

"Oh, Alfred." He hastily mocked. "Come now, tell me about it!"

"Where to start?" He said, looking into the sky as if it held the information about it. "Well, it's a festival in February – duh – and it's one giant event. It's appeared in newspapers, actually, and that's were some of our reputation comes from. It's an organization of exhibits that are supposed to develop your interests and personality, or whatever. There's sections for everyone to explore – games, technology, books, furniture, science – I think they're adding a booth for tea. Like, reviewing different types and brands of tea. Real boring shit."

"I like tea," said Arthur, defensively.

Alfred exhaled and grinned. "Oh, God, I thought I'd be the only one who likes comparing tea."

"Really? _You_  like tea?"

"Yeah," Alfred bashfully said. "I prefer it over coffee, unless it's coffee imported from Turkey. I won't settle for that lowkey expensive Starbucks stuff. Real. Turkish. Coffee. Sadik's the go-to man for it. He gives me jars of coffee grounds whenever finals comes around."

"I'll be sure to check out the–" Arthur looked at the list of booths on the flyer. "Tea Time. Tacky names, huh?"

Alfred laughed. "Yeah. I don't know who comes up with it but they must be lame. My all-time favorite's Amerifest."

"What's that? It doesn't sound ridiculously obvious."

Alfred nearly fell off the planter they were sitting on, trying to contain his excitement from just _talking_  about it. "Okay. Okay. So Amerifest is like, everything American."

"It's a booth dedicated to American culture?"

"Yep. There's history and you learn about America's landmarks and monuments. And of course, the food. Burgers and fries and shakes, and so much more."

"They didn't really come come from America–"

"Shut up, there's ice cream too."

Arthur looked at Alfred, a sparkle twinkling in his eye. "Did you say ice cream? Damn you for getting me addicted."

"Yeah. You know that place we ate last time? They host that part of Amerifest. It's literally the best thing ever, oh my God."

"You definitely need to take me to Amerifest. What else is a good exhibit to check out?"

"There's the famous Flower Fest. I don't know why, but it's one of the main reasons parents send their children to go here." He explained. "It's pretty self-explanatory. The school's Garden Club spends the entire year preparing for this moment. They reveal this hidden part of the campus reserved just for botany. It's an entire field of flowers with some other vegetation on the sides. Some of their crops are used for the school food. It's truly amazing, Arthur. I haven't seen the entire thing because around every corner there's always some couple making out."

"We should go there too."

"R-really?" Alfred asked. His heart beat faster and harder at the thought of them strolling through the Cherry Blossom Alley. It could be the  _sprout_ of their relationship.

Arthur smiled at him. Everytime he did that Alfred wanted to scream. It was too adorable to handle. "Yeah, man, we should."

Over the next few weeks the entire school obsessed with their annual festival. The teachers strayed from their regular course and began lecturing about the festival – its components, its history – there was nothing not related to it.

"Please check out the Japanese exhibit in the Fest, students. This year we're focusing on modern Japanese culture and its influence from the Western World. I'll be hosting it since I'm probably old enough to be there when Japan was founded." He smiled when he earned some laughs from the class. He was quite aware of the mystery about his age trying to be solved.

A lot of the students got to host or participate in organizing some exhibits. Roderich was gone most of the time to help arrange the piece the orchestra was going to play when the press came. Apparently the February Fest's attendees were not limited to W Academy. People all over the world visited to get their taste of multicultural interest, and a good portion of those ended up enrolling into the school.

Roderich and Elizabeta were still having arguments here and there, but they kept level heads when it came to Arthur and Alfred.

In that time, their friends had gotten together and planned what was known as "Operation: Get Matthieu's OTP Canon".

They pulled several pranks on them, trying to get them to do something intimate, but it only made things worse. Arthur started standing a little further from Alfred since he thought he was the cause of the weird things happening.

Alfred pulled Matthieu away. "Matt, what are you doing?"

"What do you think I'm doing, eh?" Matthieu hissed back.

"Well, you needa stop. First of all, it's getting pretty weird, and second of all, I have my own plan!"

Matthieu smirked. "What kind of plan? Come on, Al, lemme be part of it!"

"No!" He shrieked. "You'll mess it up again!"

"Please tell me what you're gonna do!"

Alfred glanced back to Arthur, who was talking to Mr. Honda about Japanese mythical creatures. He was surprised Mr. Honda didn't tell him to go back to his class. Everyone was so distracted someone could have ditched school for a week and no one would have noticed. "Well," He slowly said. "It's either gonna go really well, or you're gonna have a crying brother on your hands."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't get enough of Hetalia? Follow my Tumblr: http://www.bruhssia.tumblr.com


	15. It's Here! February Fest!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The February Fest has started! Operation: Get Matthieu's OTP is in full swing but it's going terribly. It's all between Alfred and Arthur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I completely forgot about Valentine's Day, and I don't think I gave February Fest an official date, so let's just say it was around that day. And yes I did update twice in one day.

The whole student body gathered in the main square, buzzing with excitement. Today was the day. News reporters from several countries had come to document on this event. Camera flashes bounced off the walls, capturing every moment. Some students were excited to see what exhibits would be featured this year, while others were nervous about how well their booth would do.

"Welcome to the 150th Annual February Fest," Headmaster Beilschmidt announced. He towered over the crowd, standing behind a podium on a small stage. He looked as serious and as scary as ever, but today the smallest smile could be seen on his face. He always spent his time in his office, so when he came out, it was important – which it was. "I think we all know why we are here today–"

His secretary Feliciano Vargas stepped in front of him and spoke into the microphone. "We're here to eat and have fun! To pet cats too! Isn't that great, the Animal Club is putting up pets for adoption!" Murmurs of excitement spread among the crowd.

"Feli!" Headmaster yelled, blushing with embarrassment. Every moment he was in or out of his office, Feliciano was seen with him. The entire school - staff included - suspected they had something going on. While he probably knew about their suspicions, no one had ever confronted him about it. "Yes, that is true, but all this is possible because many years ago, people from all over the world decided to institute a multicultural school, to bring the world together. Some of the things here are as old as the foundation of this ground itself."

"Like Mr. Wang," Alfred said cheekily, making Arthur snort loudly with laughter. People gave the two of them looks.

"This festival will last an entire day, and curfew has been extended to 2am. Feel free to visit all the exhibits and–"

"Hey, Dad!" a voice called out from the front of the crowd.

Headmaster sighed. " _Ja_ , Gilbert, I see you. Now, without any further interruptions, I officially release you to explore the campus." The crowd burst into applause and dispersed.  
Feliciano tugged on Headmaster's sleeve and stared at him seductively, a sultry look in his hazel eyes. A wild curl on his head bounced around and tickled his cheek, making him blush. "Hey, Lud," He whispered. The microphone still picked up his words, magnifying his voice to the whole crowd. "After this, I'll let you–" Headmaster became flustered and accidentally hit the microphone, trying to stop it from recording them. Extreme measures of feedback rang through the speakers, making the remaining students cover their ears and scatter.

"Hey, Al, where should we go first?" Arthur asked.

"We should try some foreign foods. I hear Headmaster makes some good wurst."

They walked down the Foreign Food aisle (no tacky name there) and stopped by each booth. They sampled some pasta, made by Mr. Vargas, and lot more food. Arthur was appalled by how much better it tasted than the English "cuisine".

Suddenly, Alfred stumbled and cowered behind Arthur.

"What? What's wrong?" Arthur asked, trying to get Alfred's shaky hands off his shoulders.

"I-it's _them_ ," Alfred said. Arthur looked around frantically, but all he could see was a group of tall boys, probably 4th years. "I forget their gang name. It's like the Five, or something like that. You don't wanna get them wrong though. You see that short one? He picked on me when I was pretty small, like in my 1st year."

Arthur looked at them. They all had moderately serious expressions. One had fluffy, blond hair and was laughing really loudly with his arms slung around two other's shoulders. One of the two had dull blue eyes and looked pissed off, and the other looked embarrassed, and tried to shove off his arm in a cool way. The fourth one was really tall and towered over the booths. He wore glasses and looked extremely scary, but he was holding hands with a relatively shorter boy. The addition of the light blond-haired boy made the other one look less intimidating, like a murderer holding a stuffed teddy bear.

"Hey, that last one doesn't look so thug-like. He's kinda cute–" The one he was talking about turned around and glared at Arthur. He almost collapsed from the intensity.

"D-Don't call Väinämöinen cute, man. Rumor has it that he can hear that from a mile away, and when he does, he gets another tattoo or piercing."

"How many does he have?"

Alfred shrugged. "I don't know! Under those sleeves he's probably so inked you can't see his real skin."

The two sat themselves at a nearby table and ate some of Mr. Honda's homemade sushi. He said it was fairly new in Japanese culture yet it was what they were best known for. Arthur felt like it tasted all too real – too authentic – like the entire Japanese timeline and spirit were wrapped in between the components. He suspected Mr. Honda of being older than he said he was. Then again, he never actually mentioned his age.

They also toyed around with Japanese technology, one of the best things to come from their modernized culture. Alfred drooled over the horror games and immediately bought some copies to play later. He and Arthur checked out the anime and manga section of Mr. Honda's large Japanese culture exhibit.

"Hey, Artie, check this anime out. It's about _personified countries_. Sounds pretty lame." Alfred said, flipping through the pages of the manga, even though Mr. Honda told him (in annoyance) that he was reading it the wrong way.

"Yeah, how would that work? It sounds so complicated I wouldn't try and get into that rubbish." Arthur said.

They had no idea where to go, so they just walked around, checking out the different booths. It was nearing lunchtime, and Alfred dragged Arthur to his all-time favorite Amerifest.

"I don't see how you can eat this," Arthur said, holding the giant burger in his hands. "You just eat it? There's no forks or knives involved?"

"Yeah, dude, you just eat it." Arthur watched in horror as Alfred practically unhinged his jaws, like a snake, and ate it whole. He looked like an alien, but except harvesting brains, he shoveled burgers into his mouth and downed it with milkshakes.

"Hey, we should go to the Flower Fest." Alfred suggested. "I'm too full to do anything else."

Arthur agreed and they started their walk to the far side of the school, where the fields were blooming with nature.

Once again, Alfred slipped his hand into Arthur's, and they walked, lightly swinging their joined arms as they pointed out random things to the other. A light buzz hung around the school, filled with excited chatter. After all, the February Fest came but once a year.

They were so occupied that they didn't notice the running footsteps behind them. All of a sudden, a hand came behind Alfred's head and shoved him into Arthur. His forehead banged against the other's and they cried out in pain.

"Shit! You did it too harshly, Feliks!" a voice harshly whispered.

"I know, I messed up! Run!" Feliks yelled back at Toris.

"Ow, what was that for?" Alfred whined, holding his throbbing face. His nose was completely healed, but still, it hurt if you smash it against someone else's nose.

"S-sorry, Alfred!" Toris hurriedly said, and ran away with Feliks. "Should we tell Elizabeta that we failed at getting them to kiss?" He said to Feliks, but fortunately his voice didn't reach Alfred and Arthur. "I knew it was a horrible technique to get them to!"

"What was that for? That was weird." Arthur said.

Alfred shrugged. Once again, they were the Oblivious Duo, not noticing that their friends were following them and executing 'perfect' plans in getting them together.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOON. And yes I did diss Hetalia in a Hetalia fanfiction.


	16. The Not-So-Secret Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eventually, the only person who can carry out Operation: Get Matthieu's OTP Canon is Alfred.

It resembled a maze; it was a magnificent labyrinth filled with trees and bushes and plants of every species at every turn. The air was rich of nature's scent, clear from the sizzling foreign foods, noisy gadgets and technology, and other loud things that were on display in the main square. It was secluded, a private paradise.

"The Garden Club must have been busy," Arthur said, watching a cherry blossom fall from its branch and litter the path they walked on. "It's truly beautiful."

Alfred nodded, and gestured towards a large tree that seemed out of place. "See that tree? It's kinda a permanent artifact. It's a sycamore, and apparently the founders of this academy planted it the day they opened the school. Rumor has it that the seed was cursed, so the club kinda just builds around it."

Of course, being a sycamore, it towered over the other plants, but it was just as aesthetic. Its reddish-brown bark stood out against the vibrant colors the rest of the garden provided.

"Cursed? How so?" Arthur asked, then grinned. "Will its branches latch out at us like the Whomping Willow?"  _Please get the reference I'm making._ He didn't, and Arthur looked at him like he had grown ten arms. "Don't tell me you've  _never_ read Harry Potter!"

Alfred shrugged and smiled sheepishly. "I've watched like, the first and second movie. All the magic stuff confuses me. Besides, the books are too long." Arthur wanted to scream in agony. He wanted to smack him and yell,  _Read the bloody books, you git, they're damn well worth it!_ He took one look at Alfred's face and all of the anger seeped out of him. It was unfair that his cute expression made up for his general idiocy.  _You're lucky you're cute._  He made a mental note: read the entire series to Alfred.

"You want to climb it?" Alfred asked as they stopped at its base.

"Can we?" Arthur said. He looked up. It was a very tall tree, indeed. His knees wobbled at the sight.

"Of course we can." Alfred replied. He saw Arthur's face go pale. Perhaps he was afraid of heights? "Well, I mean, if you  _want_  to."

"I'll do it if you do it, but–"

"I won't let you fall." Alfred said with a smile.  _That smile, that damn smile!_  He propped his foot on the lowest branch and held out a hand to Arthur. "C'mon, Artie. Don't be a wuss."

"I told you to not call me that!" He replied, taking his hand and hoisting himself onto the tree.  _I'll show you who's a 'wuss', whatever that means._

"Not call you what, Artie or wuss?" Arthur glared at him and Alfred laughed, grabbing the branch above him. Arthur found it nearly impossible to stay mad at him. He started to believe Alfred was some kind of hypnotist that prevented others from getting upset at him. Limb by limb, they climbed the length of the sycamore until the branches looked like measly twigs that wouldn't support their weight.

"See, there's more to this height," Alfred said. They were so high up they could see over the buildings and they could watch the festival going on below them. "In English class they always use this tree as an example of symbolism." He patted the trunk with enthusiasm. "It's supposed to show how far you've gotten, that you've progressed…or like, leveled up. You get it, right? It's like we're growing." He shrugged. "You know what, I never really paid attention during that symbolism because The Last of Us had released that day. For all I know, this tree could symbolize a pile of shit or something."

A gentle breeze swept through their hair, but couldn't wipe off the smiles on their faces. Arthur made the horrible choice of looking down, and nearly screamed. "Wow, t-that's  _really_  far down. C-can we make it?" He looked around, horrifying himself even more by observing just how high up above the entire campus they were. He tried not to look afraid and stared avidly at the mountains in the distance.

Alfred winced.  _Shit, he really is scared of heights!_  He panicked, trying to think of a way to get them both down quickly and safely. He should have known! How was he going to pull this off! He remembered he shouldn't be freaking out when Arthur was already paralyzed with fear.

"Hey, hey, don't worry. You'll be safe as long as you're with me." He slid a protective arm around his waist, for comfort and for…just because he could.

"I c-can't swim," He suddenly said.

"Huh?" was all Alfred could say. There wasn't a body of water for miles around. What the hell was he scared of water for?

"One time, I was on a cruise, a-and I was looking out over the o-ocean, a-and then…" He didn't finish, and he gripped onto the branch so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"Sorry for making you go up here–"

"N-No, it's alright. I'm glad I went with you. With you, it's always amazing new experiences after the next." He quickly lifted his hand to clamp it over Alfred's, so his fingers were resting over Alfred's, with the branch underneath. "Thanks, Al, for everything you did. Now take me down, will you? It's getting quite chilly up here and it's flu season."

Arthur nervously laughed as he watched Alfred edge to a lower branch. "Bloody hell, I must look like a complete wurst or whatever you said."

" _Wuss._ And you're not alone, man - to be honest, I'm scared shitless just being here." Alfred carefully placed his foot on a sturdy limb.

"Stupid - why did you even suggest going up here in the first place?!" Alfred laughed again, taking Arthur's hand. There was no anger left in Arthur - just concern and worry.

Alfred guided Arthur down the tree, telling him exactly where to put his foot, and  _for the love of God, do_ not _look down_. "Look at me, okay?" He instructed. Arthur had no problem doing that. He held on to him and climbed down, staring into his eyes to keep him level. He noticed they were as blue as the waves that crashed over him. It was terrifying, and calming at the same time. They were sparkling with energy but washed over Arthur with small waves of relief. Before he knew it, they were no longer on the tree, yet he clung to Alfred, scared to let go. He glanced at the sweet, down-to-earth ground and looked back at Alfred's stupid grin.  _How dare you make me feel this, Alfred!_  He screamed in his mind, desperately wanting to say them out loud but too mortified to share his thoughts.  _You make me feel all excited and relaxed, and furious but cheerful, and everything at once! Damn you! You bloody hypnotist!_

"I guess we should stick down here," Alfred said, leading him down an aisle of flowers. "Aw, you're still shaking. That's cute."

"It's not that! I-I'm just cold, that's all!" Arthur barked. He regretted it. Was he being too rude to him?

"Cold,  _right,_ " Alfred put his arm around his waist. Arthur smiled. Alfred always had some counterattack to his irritableness.

It was 3pm, and the sun was shining with no clouds blocking its rays. It provided a comfortable warmth, not too cold, not too hot. Arthur was still trembling, and not even he knew why. Perhaps he was nervous. But for what reason?

The two took a little rest in the gazebo perched on a small hill, and they sat on a tiny bench. There was barely any space between them; their shoulders rubbed together, sending tingles down their backs.

"Hey, those are really pretty flowers," Alfred said, pointing to a patch of vibrant-colored flowers.

"Those only grow in the United Kingdom," He replied, standing up to get a closer look at the blossoming flowers. "The Garden Club must have worked really hard if they can survive in this climate."

Alfred softly chuckled. "My friend Davie really loved these flowers. I shoulda told him they were in the UK." He reached forward and plucked a flower from its stem, and fixed it in Arthur's hair. The han blue petals stood out against his light blond strands.

Arthur batted his eyelashes flirtatiously, a smile spreading from ear to ear. "Am I pretty?" He asked.

"Yeah, you're pretty, Artie." Alfred replied. He heard slight rustling behind in the bushes. He quickly glanced and saw that their group of friends had been spying on them the entire time. They noticed that Alfred had spotted them and gave up all intentions on trying to stay hidden. Matthieu waved and pointed to a homemade sign that read, "KISS HIM".

_Don't tell me what to do, Matt,_ I'm _the older brother!_  Alfred thought. He began to flip his shit.  _Kiss him? Oh God, I mean I wanna but I can't, but I_  need  _to, I–_

Arthur saw his eyes stray to where their crew squatted beside the rose bushes. He started to turn his head. "Hm, what are you loo–"

_Fuck, no! Shit, what do I do, ah fuck it! Doin' it! YOLO BRO!_  Alfred screamed at himself as time seemed to slow down. He grabbed Arthur by the shoulders so he swiveled back towards him. Arthur looked genuinely confused for a split second, but before he could say anything else, his lips met Alfred's.

Arthur was caught off guard by a pair of lips on his, but he didn't move away. He was surprised but it wasn't like he didn't want it to happen. He melted into his touch, and slowly, he moved his hands up Alfred's body. His fingers tangled in his hair, and he sighed. He seemed to have forgotten everything on his mind, and all he could think about was how good Alfred tasted.

For once in his life, something felt right.

They pulled away, lips parted and breathing heavily.

Alfred's brain flew out his mouth and he stammered over every word, for his mind stopped working and he spoke with no filter. "I, uh, um, I-I–" He blubbered. His face grew hotter with every passing second. He knew his face was as red as the stripes on the American flag. "I, er, I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Arthur asked. What did he mean by sorry? Did he not mean to put his lips on his? Was it some friendly American gesture?

"I-I know you like, like someone–"

"You bloody git, I like  _you_!" The words slipped out of his mouth before he knew it. Arthur could only concentrate on his heart hammering in his chest. It was beating so fast it could have burst out of his body and he wouldn't have noticed. The few seconds of silence was torturous.

"Wait – you do?" Alfred said, extremely bewildered. In the distance, he heard Roderich scream, "I could compose a symphony on how stupid these idiots are!" before Elivabeth clamped her hand on his mouth, telling him to shut up. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because  _you_  like someone else!" Arthur cried.

"That  _someone else_  was  _you_!" Alfred shouted. He laughed hysterically, his laugh echoing throughout the fields. This was ridiculous. Both of them were busy stressing over their crush liking someone else when it was mutual. His shock faded a bit, and so did his voice. "All this time, I thought…"

Alfred looked back at Arthur, who looked even more attractive than ever before.  _He's all mine…_  He thought, and smiled. It was too much. He must've died and gone to heaven; it was too good to be true. "So...you don't mind if I kiss you agai–"

Arthur grabbed him by the collar and pulled him towards. He tip-toed a little bit, and their lips met once again. Alfred wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist, and they became one, like two hearts beating in harmony. Arthur's mouth opened in the kiss and Alfred slipped his tongue in.

_This is definitely real._  Alfred thought.  _He tastes like the ice cream we ate earlier._

Alfred couldn’t wipe the giddy grin off of his face, even when his cheeks hurt. This was too awesome. He noticed Arthur’s eyes were watery; the greens of his eyes shimmered like the sea under the tears.

“What’s wrong?” He asked. Alfred found it difficult to find out how Arthur felt. He couldn’t pick up the hints, no matter how blatant Arthur made it. Because Alfred was so inexperienced with others’ emotions, he was unintentionally blunt. Why was Arthur crying? Was he sad? Happy? He really couldn’t tell. The next thing he said made Alfred even more confused.

“I hate you and your stupid smile,” Arthur said.

“I’m sorry?”

“…No…ugh, that’s not what I mean…” Arthur gave up on trying to explain and leaned his head against Alfred’s chest. “Stupid.” He said, smiling.  _I've just been kissed by the idiot I fell in love with,_ he thought,  _so I guess that makes me an idiot too._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I hadn't updated in almost two months, but I was just so busy, and then break started, and I was just so lazy. I was supposed to add a new chapter like a few days ago, but then I went back and edited it to a much better state. I'm still very bad at describing the feeling and such. Plus, I think Arthur may seem a little more "BAKAKABAKABAultimatetsundere I LOVE COMPLAINING" mostly because I have read a lot of USUK doujinshis..and Hetalia World Stars!! And World Twinkle, seriously, what even. Lastly, yes, I did make a Davie reference in this chapter. I hate me too.
> 
> I'm more active on Tumblr than AO3: http://www.bruhssia.tumblr.com


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a little over a week since February Fest, and don't our boys know it. Arthur feels like he's the only one who likes to read, and wonders why he does so. Our six in Mr. Honda's class talks amongst themselves once again, and their teacher gets Arthur intrigued in the relationship of two certain people, while Carlos /stops/ Matthieu from getting interested in it. Arthur gets hit with another piece of news, and Alfred gets himself into a race.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'll come up with a good chapter title.
> 
> IMPORTANT REMINDERS:  
> Erika (Liechtenstein) is now Lili. (Because I'm picky with names)  
> Maxima (Cuba) is now Carlos. (Because I'm picky with names x2)
> 
> NEW CHARACTER!! Kyle = Australia (2nd year, in Alfred's class)

"So you and Alfred, hm?"

Arthur snapped his head up and set down the book they were _supposed_ to be reading, _Tale of Two Cities_. It was a classic only Arthur seemed to cherish. He had received a copy of the book on his sixth birthday, as one of the only presents his father gave him, and each time he read it, he did so with a growing fascination and deciphered it with a different perspective.

Reading was his favorite activity. Mystery novels, plays, fairy tales, even action comics – he drank in their words. Each page paved a road for him to take into a fantasy world where he could escape reality; he could pretend he was the protagonist in the story, experiencing different joys and griefs and feelings he couldn't experience himself. Reading became essential to him in his childhood, not an obsession, but a necessity. Arthur would bring books with him to read by a small candle as he crammed himself into a tiny space while he hid from his father, his angry voice bouncing off the mansion walls. Fortunately, reading was the one thing his father allowed him to keep: "You can read about the strong boys you'll never get to be like."

Arthur had trouble detaching reality from the fictional world – as he was doing right now. Struggling to stop thinking about the part he had just read, when the peasants stormed the Bastille, starting the French Revolution, he put aside his rising thoughts about what it was like to be someone revolting against their leaders, and tuned in to the last few words Lili just said: "…still can't believe you guys got together."

Arthur couldn't either. Once again zoning out, he thought about how completely surreal this had all been. Several times he woke up in the middle of the night, thinking hands were wrapped around his neck, but realizing it was only Alfred's arms lazily draped on him. Alfred was his boyfriend now, meaning he could hug him or kiss him or anything he wanted to do to him – and it wasn't in some fantasy he had created in his mind. Everyday his face was peppered with Alfred's kisses, light but each one more hungry than the next, and more often than not Arthur had to stop him because homework and essays couldn't do itself. Slowly, he adapted to him, taking in his sweet personality, and he found himself equally interested in the strange things Alfred showed him. Arthur also picked up on the culture around him; he talked louder and more confidently, the way he spoke became more casual and didn't sound like he had stumbled out of a Shakespearian play. His humor conformed to how he felt, and he could finally express himself in sarcasm and satire. However, he stuck to his roots and stayed the same in an indescribable way, but he always loved how different Alfred was from him. Arthur loved finding out things about him; Alfred was a book that he wanted to read forever. He never ceased to amaze him, even if he didn't try to. And Arthur was extremely grateful, for he had gained two things he'd dreamed of getting: someone who was his best friend and someone who he loved.

"Oh, Lord, he's turned into some daydreaming lovebird." Roderich said. Glancing at Elizabeta, he added, “Like you and Gilbert,” to which she responded, “Oh, God, you’re _still_ on about that?” The two glared at each other until Roderich snapped his fingers. "Oi, Arthur!"

He turned to them, his cheeks burning red. It was a habit he always had – thinking too much, and eventually making a documentary in his mind. He scooted his chair back to where his friends had pushed their desks together to talk. He was slightly upset they didn't take an interest in reading like he did, but it was their loss, not his.

"Hey," Lili said, hiding her face behind her book, "Vash said he isn't into gossip, but he said that a bunch of 4th years know about you and Alfred."

Arthur scoffed. "Really? Like who?"

"You know that clique – or should I say gang – from the Nordic region? You two are their favorite thing to bet on."

"I heard Tino lost a bet," Carlos cut in, "and now he's getting a tattoo on the last bare patch of skin on him." He smiled mischievously. "His ass."

"Man, you shoulda gotten together sooner," Elizabeta sighed, "If you did, Lukas was going to have to wear the girls' uniform for the rest of the year. I think he'd look dashing in red plaid."

Arthur laughed, "I'm sorry, I didn't plan on doing this on a specific date." He added, "That's weird, having upperclassmen talk about me like that."

"Well, they say you make a really cute couple," said Lili.

"Are you saying they _ship_ them, eh?" Matthieu said. "Dammit, I was first, and I'm not trying to be a hipster or anything, but _hah!_ at the times no one believed in Arthur and Alfred. All these fuckers never saw it coming, but I did. I'm like a prophecy." They laughed.

"Ah, excuse me," someone said. They looked up to see Mr. Honda. He looked very serious, with a no-mercy look in his eyes. Suddenly, he smiled and said, "I thought by getting Arthur and Alfred together would mean you six would stop talking in class."

They exchanged looks with each other in disbelief. Carlos said, "Whoa, whoa, wait, hold on a second–"

"I will _hold on_ for years if I have to." Mr. Honda said, annoyance rising in his voice, and the six of them leaned away ever so slightly like he had burst into raging flames and burned them. Clearly he had been waiting for this group to actually work, and he could wait some more – not like he wanted to.

"You're saying you knew about – _this_ – too?"

Mr. Honda smiled and laughed, and his metaphorical flames died down, scaring the students even more. It was hard to tell what he was thinking. He was patient and a peaceful man, but he could whip out a katana and slice one's head off at any second. “I may be old, but us teachers like to discuss our pupils. Do not think I do not know what is going on. Do you think whatever method you used would work on Ludwig and Feliciano?”

“’Ludwig and Feliciano’? You mean Headmaster Beilschmidt and his intern?” Elizabeta chimed. “Mr. Honda, you’re a teacher, you should know – are they dating or what?”

“They do ‘hang out’ quite a lot and Yao and I notice they always have these ‘private meetings’ but – ah, I have become off track. Return to your assignments immediately!” He turned on his heel and left without another word, embarrassed that he had almost revealed valuable evidence about his coworkers. He should at least gather more data until sharing his suspicions with anyone else!

“So,” Matthieu mused, “Does that mean he wants them to get together? Like, he shi–”

“Stop right there, do _not_ say it, Matt, or else I will burn your Naruto cosplay and your manga.” Carlos said, earning a very offended look from Matthieu. “ _Please_ don’t make this your new OTP. That’s too creepy, man.” He put a hand to his forehead dramatically and faked a sob, making the others smile with amusement. “What if the other kids found out? What if Headmaster found out? Oh, woe me, I’d be too ashamed from the second-hand embarrassment that I’d have to move to another school, and you–”

“Al _right_ , I get it, jeez. I’ll stick to NaruSasu.” He laughed, and Carlos shook his head in mock disappointment. At that moment, he was the first one to notice they were supposed to be answering literary questions about the book they were reading. “Crap, I forgot about the homework. Arthur, you had your head in that book earlier, do you know ‘What imagery suggests death?’”

They all ended up copying Arthur’s answers.

~

The bell rang and Arthur raced to cram his stuff into his bag. He already did the chapter questions, knowing the book by heart, and the others just copied his work. He didn’t really care that they did, but he found it flattering when they said they enjoyed reading the book _through_ him: “You’re like our personal SparkNotes!”

He bolted out the door, hoping to get to Alfred before he got to him. He was slightly annoyed everytime he walked out of class, and there Alfred was, leaning oh-so-casually against the wall, waiting for him. Arthur wanted to be the one doing that for once.

He saw something out of the corner of his eye, and his goals were dashed. He saw them: Headmaster Beilschmidt and Feliciano talking in his office. Feliciano talked with great energy, his hands moved rapidly as they made several gestures, and Arthur wondered how anyone could understand him with his arms flailing in the air. Ludwig seemed to get whatever he was saying, and he nodded and responded with equal enthusiasm; as if it couldn’t get any stranger, he was smiling too, and laughing.

Arthur subconsciously drifted towards the office, and hid behind a tree to get a better look. There was nothing odd about their relationship; all he saw was a hard-working man with another man that seemed to ease his stress. As soon as Arthur concluded that, there was a sudden shift in the atmosphere around the two men. Ludwig quieted Feliciano and walked slowly around him. He circled around him and came to a stop, facing the shorter brunette, who smiled deviously. Arthur could have _sworn_ he saw his headmaster lean towards Feliciano, placing his hand on the back of his neck and –

“Hey,” someone said. Arthur screamed in surprise and turned around. Alfred. “What are you doing?”

“W-well, I heard that–” Arthur looked back at Beilschmidt’s office, but frowned when he saw the curtains were closed, blocking his view of ever finding out what was going on in that office. So close! Disappointment ran through his veins. _Damn._

“What, you’re looking for ghosts?” Arthur glanced at Alfred. He wanted to tell him, _Headmaster Beilschmidt is fucking someone in his office!_ He couldn’t confirm that himself, so he kept quiet. Who knows what would have happened if Ludwig and Feliciano found out rumors were being spread about him?

“Nevermind. What’s up?”

Alfred grinned. “Uh, I _meant_ to tell you like a few days ago, but then that day Kyle said I couldn’t eat a jar of Marmite, so then I did, and then I threw up and it was kinda funny but you see, I threw up on my project, so I spent these past few days remaking it, and I told Kyle he was a piece of shit for making me eat Marmite, but then he was like, ‘Mate, that’s your fucking problem, _you_ chose to eat it,’ and he is kinda right so I told him he couldn’t beat me at swimming, so we ditched class today to have a race, and I _was_ going to win until some teacher yelled at us for trespassing and kicked us out. So we’re having an official race today afterschool.” He smiled proudly.

Arthur stood there, trying to process what he just said. What happened to sentence structure? “Wait, say that part again.”

“You mean when I threw up after eating Marmite – oh yeah, Feliks took a picture and it’s on Twitter now. Did you see it?”

“No, _no,_ I meant the part at the beginning. You said you were going to tell me something?”

“Oh yeah. Tomorrow night, you’re coming to my dad’s place for dinner. He wants to meet you. He says the stories Matthieu and I tell him aren’t enough.”

“What?!” He said, on instinct.

“Did you go swimming too or something? Clean out your ears. Tomorrow night. Dinner.”

Arthur’s mind went blank. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“ _Because_ Kyle said I couldn’t eat Mar –  _ooowww!_ ” Arthur took Alfred’s squishy cheek between his fingers and pinched hard. Alfred stumbled back, pouting and holding his cheek, which was turning bright red. “What was that for?”

“Stop repeating yourself!”

“You were like, ‘What?’ and –”

“I’m  _shocked!_ ” Even this new piece of evidence did not affect Alfred, and he continued to be as oblivious as ever. “Why would you be shocked?” He replied. “Shocked is when someone accuses you of not being able to eat Marmite, even though it’s super gross.”

“Meeting people makes me nervous, alright?”

“You meet lots of people!” Alfred said. “Like that one time, I remember seeing an interview of you when we were like 7 years old, and you and your dad went to some big convention thing – I forgot what it was called – and you told the interviewer you wanted to major in literature, and then I think your dad had the video of the interview taken down and he said you meant to say–”

“–that I wanted to major in business, I know.” He wondered if Alfred had hit his head on the side of the pool, because his brain seemed to be malfunctioning. “What’s your point?”

“Why is meeting my dad such a big deal?”

“He’s important! You’re super important to me, and since you’re probably just like him, he must be important to you, and therefore, me too.”

“You’re important to my old man, and me too, of course. He’s really excited to meet you because I became friends with you.” He added, “He said he was proud of me when I told him I liked you. Not really sure why, but cool.”

“Proud, huh?” Was that really something to be proud about? A pang of jealously struck Arthur and he furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to calm down. All Alfred did was tell his father he liked a boy from school and he got a pat on the back, whereas Arthur had been working all his life, following his father’s every command, hoping to get some kind of approval but to no avail. He wondered what it was like to be prideful.

“Yup, so tomorrow at 5. It’s kinda funny, bringing you to my house. You were a celebrity in our house.” Alfred smiled. “I just remembered, I loved watching your interviews because believe it or not, I thought you were pretty cute. I still do!” Arthur couldn’t help but smile too. “Oh, and I still can’t believe you were a world champion in croquet at the age of 9.”

“Shut up, you tosser.” Arthur said, and smirked. “So, I hear you have a race today?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things I'd like to clarify:  
> 1\. I'm really trying to define Arthur's personality. Thanks to ShanleenKinnJaskey, I found the thing that perfectly described his conditions: PTSD. It's mild (because he is a big strong boy!!), but at times it can really get in his way. He's between punk and posh, and is at that perfect middle between his common interpretations. He's quite rude, like the "I'M TSUNDERE YOU BAKA" England we all know. Arthur's funny, in a sarcastic/satirist way, but he's still a sweetheart! HE'S WITTY. THAT IS WHAT I'M TRYING TO SAY.  
> 2\. Ludwig and Feliciano may become another subplot in this story. Because of this, I'm going to have to write more chapters, along with the building tensions between Roderich and Elizabeta (it was subtle in this chapter). Feliciano and Lovino are twins in the 3rd year. (I would say 4th but Toni is a 3rd year...) Feliciano for some reason actually attends class with little to no frequency, and Lovino is the class president. Feli is an intern. And yeah. The ages in my fic is SO FUCKED UP. LIKE NOTHING MAKES SENSE. I'M SORRY.
> 
> I'm sorry this Author's Note was so long, but hey, I wrote a 2.7k chapter in 2 days! I rewrote the entire thing because in comparison with my original draft, IT WAS SO BAD OH MY GOD. Yeah. So I included lots more detail. Plus, I never intended to have this Marmite thing, I was actually supposed to skip straight to the dinner, but it just came while I was typing. I think it's a beautiful filler chapter and will allow me to build up characterization.
> 
> Thank you for reading!! In my Anime Club at school, we're practicing for a performance for Multicultural Day (clubs put on a performance). And it's Attack on Titan themed, and it's gonna be super awesome! The performance is in late February, so I'll put up a link later when someone uploads the video.
> 
> I'm guessing the next chapter will be in about a month, mostly because the Marmite thing was so unplanned I have to think of what's gonna happen, write it, decide it's bad, and rewrite it. OKAY I'M OUT. sry for the long note I need to vent
> 
> P.S. Alfred's Marmite Speech is an accurate representation of how I talk. As shown by this super long note.
> 
> P.P.S. If you read all of this, I love you.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marmite is a bad thing and leads to bad things. Arthur hopes Alfred can get in the damn water already and get this over with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize in advance for the poor characterization of Australia and the Nordics. I have no conception of slang and also I d'n't w'nt t' typ' l'k' th's, 'k'y? Also there may be some weird phrases because it is nearly midnight and I am piss poor at editing. Also, dickbutt is a meme.

"Krikey, I'd thought you'da gone off playin' chicken or somethin'." said Kyle. He smirked when he saw Alfred, and grinned when his eyes fell upon Arthur. "Sorry, Arthur, but you're gonna havta see Alfred get his ass kicked in the water."

"Yeah, right! I was swimming ever since I was in my momma's womb." Alfred retorted.

Arthur thought about it for a second, and then said, "Was that necessary?"

He could only shrug: "It's true!"

The two of them had walked down several hallways inside the building for about a minute, and then they followed the sound of water splashing. Around them, people were talking and emerged into the pool area. Bleachers lined the upper level and a glass ceiling showered sunlight over them.

Once his eyes adjusted, he could see Kyle was just as tall as Alfred, and as confident too. The thing was, it went to an extent to where Arthur couldn't tell if his threats were serious or not. He constantly wore a smile like Alfred, except his were mischievous. On the other hand, he seemed completely carefree. Other than the several hard glares he directed at Alfred, he stood in a way that gave 'chill' vibes. His auburn hair appeared to be slicked back, but half of his hair sprung forward, defeating the purpose of hair gel, and Kyle tended to sweep away two strands that hung in front of his face.

Alfred motioned towards the small crowds gathering in the stands surrounding the pool and asked, "Tell me, did you somehow convince some students they were going to witness you eating shit?" Alfred quickly added, "Like the way I ate Marmite?"

Now that Alfred had mentioned it, why were they there? Not many people should be so interested in a race between two people.

"Jeez, you're never gonna get o'er that, are ya?" Kyle shook his head mockingly. "And no, stupid, did you forget how many fangirls the swim team has?"

As if on cue, said team came out of the locker rooms and made their way towards the pool. Arthur was surprised, but then again, not really; with a school pool came a school swim team.

Like the girls who screamed the names of the members, Arthur found himself staring at some of them who passed by, wearing only swim tights and speedos. Usually Alfred was the only male exception to people he found attractive, but he had to admit, he could see why some went crazy over the swim team.

One boy in particular walked towards them. Arthur's heartbeat quickened only slightly, and it seemed Alfred and Kyle were also at a loss of words, for they said nothing and simply straightened their backs.

However, no matter how tall they made themselves look, the boy still towered over them in all of his gloriness. Arthur tilted his head back and stared into his eyes, which were a blue that was icy and pale, unlike Alfred's that looked like a piece of the sky were trapped in them. He wore a swim team jacket that read 'KØHLER'.

For a few seconds, his expression remained rigid and dark. Then suddenly, he smiled. "I heard there's gonna be a little race today!" He slapped the backs of Alfred and Kyle, grinning.

"Ow, Mathias–" Kyle shouted.

"Sorry, boys, but you're going t'havta wait for swim practice to be done." He said, resting an arm on Alfred's shoulder.

"It's alright–" Alfred said, pulling at the waistband of his pants, "I'm prepared."

Arthur raised an eyebrow. "You've been wearing that all day?"

Alfred glared at the boy whose weight he was struggling under. "It's kinda hard when this guy's coach is yelling, 'Oy, y'have 30 seconds to get yer ass outta here before I haul yer ass outta here!'"

Arthur and Kyle couldn't help but laugh at his terrible impression. Mathias laughed even harder, and Arthur watched his light blonde hair bounce around. "Coach?" He said. "We don' have no coach. We follow orders from our wonderful c'p'n, Tino Väinämöinen!" Arthur tried repeating the last name in his head, but the syllables sounded like gibberish. He knew Mathias and this Tino were obviously from a different part of Europe, judging by their unpronounceable names. In fact, he wasn't even sure how 'Køhler' was pronounced. What difference did an 'o' with a slash in it make?

"What's this about me?" A boy joined their small group, and Arthur immediately recognized him from the way his arms were covered in tattoos, like tiny paintings etched into his skin. He was much shorter than Mathias, and Arthur was almost relieved he could look at someone at eye level and not have to strain his neck like with Mathias. Almost. Tino was practically glaring at him – or maybe he was just looking; he couldn't tell from the hard look.

"Oh, Tino!" Mathias grinned and slung an arm around Tino's shoulders, and Arthur noticed Alfred subtly straightening his back from the removal of weight. "I was just talking about what a great c'p'n you are. This guy is an absolute beast at swimming. Growing up in the nasty waters of Finland, I say, that's what makes a swimmer."

"Y'make people sound way better than how they really are, that's what I hate about you." Tino said. The tiniest smile played on his lips, and he seemed to glow. Arthur noticed he didn't look so scary, and his eyes were much brighter. He smiled himself. It only takes a smile to change someone.

"I can't even swim today, can't get wet," Tino continued.

"Ah, yes!" Mathias exclaimed, with so much excitement it scared the boys. "Because of your new tattoo! Tino, Tino, that's Arthur Kirkland!" He pointed at Arthur, and wiggled his eyebrows, knowing that because of him and Alfred he had no more skin that didn't have ink. "And y'know, that's Alfred Jones–"

"Alfred _F._ Jones, I know." Alfred smiled, knowing he no longer had to correct people on the middle initial of his name. "I know who everyone is, Mathias. You two are cute together – what's that face for?"

Arthur didn't realize he had the most stupid expression on. "Oh, sorry, it's just that I thought you were really scary, but you're not."

"Oh? Are you suggesting I need to get piercings now?"

"What? No! You are intimidating, yes, but you're not mean, you know what I mean?" He gave up on trying to find the right words to say when he saw Tino grin in amusement.

“Just curious, what did you get a tattoo of?” Kyle asked.

“Well, I had run out of ideas so I made the mistake of letting Mathias choose-”

“He got a dickbutt tattoo!” Mathias yelled, and burst into giggles.

“There you are!” Another boy from the swim team made his way over to them. If Tino’s dark expression wasn’t already scary enough, it was the deadpan look this one had. “Mathias Køhler, I have been looking all over for you!” He pinched Mathias’ ear, who howled in pain, saying, “Ow, Lukas, how did you find me?”

“I heard you scream ‘dickbutt’. You’ve been talking about that for the past week, I can recognize your voice from miles away.” Lukas paused. “Sorry to cut your conversation short, but we’ve got practice. C’mon, idiot. C’mon, Tino.”

Tino and Mathias followed Lukas, and some girls in the upper stands screamed their names. Mathias turned around, shouting above their voices, “Hey, Alfred, Kyle, whoever wins between the two of you can join the swim team!”

Alfred’s and Kyle’s eyes lit up. Of the few things they had in common, they absolutely adored the swim team. They were too excited to hear Lukas smack Mathias upside the head and scowl: “You can’t just give someone a spot on the team!”

Kyle grinned. “Aight, their practice is gonna take an hour or so, I’m gonna grab a snack.” He clapped Alfred’s back as he walked away.

“Remember to wait 45 minutes! Or don’t wait, and I can look super heroic as I save you from drowning!” Alfred called, and Kyle laughed. Soon the two of them were alone, and Arthur asked, “Is this the type of friendship you’d call ‘love-hate’?”

“Yes, I guess.” Alfred replied. “He’s one of my childhood friends, and ever since we were young we’ve had that friendly competition stuff.” Arthur wasn’t sure what friendly competition was; of the few things his father told him, it was harsh in the real world, you either go big or go home.

They decided to get snacks too, and hung out with Elizabeta and Roderich, who had seen Felik’s rapid Tweeting about “some lame race that takes place after swim practice”. Arthur noticed the two friends were not talking much, and a heavy tension hung around them, but he had already sat down. He didn’t know if he was making it better or worse by providing another person for them to talk to.

Arthur spilled soda on his sleeve and went to the restroom while Alfred entertained Elizabeta and Roderich by discussing a new movie that had just come out. Arthur grumbled to himself as he neared the restroom, wondering why he even got soda if he didn’t like it in the first place. He began to wonder why it was called “soda” here and different things in different places, and was so transfixed he didn’t realize he’d done another thing he regretted soon after.

He stood in the restroom, staring at Francis, and the door closed behind him, marking his doom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am still alive! I'm so sorry for not updating for the longest time; I never actually intended for this chapter to happen, but then I dawdled on about Marmite (I've never tasted it but some say it's gross, no offense to those who like it). I think that's why the writing quality decreased, as the past chapters I had pre-written and only edited before posting.
> 
> So this arc, I'll call it the Swim Arc, has purpose actually. One, it's a filler chapter between last chapter and the dinner at the Jones/Williams' house. Two, it's to develop the tensions between Roderich and Elizabeta and the rivalry between Arthur and Francis (because I forgot why they even hated each other, lol); both will be the main plot of next chapter. Next chapter, huh...I have a weekend that's free, so I hope to write at least SOME and not let another month and a half go by. The next chapter will barely include USUK at all because it'll be split between two perspectives: Arthur and Francis and Alfred being that "oh god they're fighting what do" with Elizabeta and Roderich. Plus, I nearly forgot I ship USUK thanks to RusAme and DenNor... and NedDen... why must I be a multi-shipper ;A;
> 
> if you're reading this follow my tumblr (www.bruhssia.tumblr.com) and tell me you came from AO3 ily all


	19. Have a Chat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur and Francis get at it again, only to realize they are being stupid and eventually they should make up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is significance in this chapter, I promise. Also, apologies for the French, translations will be at the bottom.

Arthur's first thoughts were: _Oh, I thought it smelled like shit in here._ He quickly considered leaving before the other boy noticed, but as soon as he turned around, ready to dash for the exit, he heard Francis scoff, "Oh, you're just going to run away every time you see me? Go ahead, _lâche_."

Arthur had heard that word too many times to not know what it meant. During those wretched summers he spent in France, they would sometimes climb trees and do dangerous times; Arthur not wanting to but Francis egging him on by throwing foreign phrases at him. He and his friends would jeer at him, daring him to do one thing and making fun of him if he didn't. He understood every word. He was forced to learn French and he refused to use it. The last summer he spent at Francis' house, he broke his arm after they had gotten into a physical fight, and Arthur screamed the last French he would ever use, "Mangez de la merde et mourez, connard!" He refused to use French after that.

Arthur whirled around. "Fine," He said. "I won't leave until you do. What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I have every right to be here, got that? I'm simply supporting my dear friend, Antonio, who's on the swim team. They have a big tournament coming up, you know." Francis smirked, and Arthur knew his expression was too easy to read, a weakness he had. "Which you didn't. You don't know a lot of things."

"I don't." He balled his fists, only to feel the sticky substances on them, and he remembered why he even came to the restroom in the first place. He took cautious steps towards the sinks, and turned on the tap. "Why do you hate me so?"

"Hate you? I was only teasing. If I wanted to cause any real damage, I would, and you know it." He knew it alright. There was a reason why he actually preferred to stay with his father during the summer; even with all the risks he would rather stay in England.

"Don't deny that you hate me."

"If I did, it's probably because _you_ hate _me_." Francis sighed, gliding over to where Arthur stood and rested an elbow on the adjacent sink. He nearly rolled his eyes when the other backed away ever so slightly. "Arthur Elizabeth Kirkland," He started, knowing this would get Arthur's attention. Arthur glared at him, remembering the times he would deny it as a child and claim it was 'Arthur _Edward_ Kirkland' to sound less embarrassing; now he hid his middle name altogether, and the exception of Francis and his father knew what it was. "Why can't we just let this go? Like, bridge over water or whatever you English-speakers say–"

"Water under the bridge, twat." Arthur said, mindlessly wiping his hands on a paper towel.

"Oi, at least I'm speaking your language. You should be grateful I don't burst out in full French like when we were kids and use expressions, like 'C'est du passé.' I really am tired of this rivalry happening. What do you say, hm, about being _amis_ again?"

"Qui casse les verres les paie." Arthur snarled. Even after not speaking French for years, he was still fluent. It was cinematic that he take Francis' language and throw it back at him, and like the French films he would secretly watch, he needed to be dramatic. Perhaps leaving the room would do the trick, but as he turned, Francis grabbed his hand.

"Don't touch me with your shit hands, you fuck!" The words slipped out of his mouth with no intention. He yanked his hand away. "Who knows if you washed your hands after going?"

Francis groaned. " _Mon dieu_ , do you even realize how incredibly _stupid_ you sound? You turn down a chance to make up, an opportunity to reconcile, we would no longer spend the rest of our short, meaningless lives hating each other, and you threw it in the trash!" He slowly advanced, and Arthur backed against the sinks until he founded himself cornered. Francis continued, his speech becoming more and more accented: "And now you are burying yourself in this cocoon of, of ignorance, and you are suddenly concerned about my hygiene? Of course I wash my hands, dammit!" He grabbed him by the collar and pulled him up. "You think you can just keep hating me, well guess what – we're family, don't ever forget that. You will never stop seeing me. And if you want to keep making an ass of yourself, that is fine with me!"

"Always trying to dominate me, things never change. So how about we pick up where we left off, when we want to tear each other's faces off everytime we meet?"

A cunning look came into Francis' eyes. He lost him. There was no turning back now. He shoved Arthur into the wall and felt the lapels of his jacket being tugged, and a sudden pain in his head. He stumbled back, grinning deviously, and bringing up his fists. Just like old times.

"Let's catch up," Arthur sneered, "Still trying to pull the rug out from under me, especially for Kirkland Corporations?"

"As ever," Francis replied, "Still a defenseless maggot?"

" _Au contrare_. You know Mr. Soo, that Korean teacher? He's teaching me how to box." He jabbed at Francis, landing a few successful hits. "See that? Called a Haymaker.”

"Impressive. Hair-pulling counts?"

"You're only making it harder on yourself, sweetheart."

"Yes, like I'd– _ow!_ " Arthur lunged at Francis, and neither of them were holding back anymore. As if they were little kids, they rolled on the floor, scratching, pulling, kicking – except the two of them were bigger, stronger, heavier. It was a miracle no one was already in the restroom, otherwise their stall would have been smashed in.

Arthur breathed heavily, trying to catch his breath as Francis was wrapped around him, immobilizing him in a headlock.

"You're dripping blood on me, Kirkland." Francis hissed. They both, very uncomfortably and awkwardly, scooted into a sitting position where they could still have fingers gripping each others' hair.

"That's from when you spat blood on me." Arthur replied. "And my _white_ shirt." He sighed.

"Do you have any idea what Alfred would say if he saw that I got in a fight with you, for no apparent reason?"

"It was 'no apparent reason', _zut_ , you are just as oblivious as ever." Francis said. "And _oui_ , I know. Toni and Gil have been telling me they're disappointed. Especially Toni. He says, 'You need to make up!' And then he and his angry Italian boyfriend gossip about in Spanish – foreigners need to stop talking in their native languages, no one understands them,” Arthur rolled his eyes at how big of a hypocrite Francis was being, “But, I did try. It's your fault it didn't work out."

"Can you stop with the blaming gimmick?"

"Only if you do."

"Well, either way, that's not going to help in our current situation. Our blood's on ourselves, our clothes, and the walls of this restroom. Francis, we look like shit."

Even though he could not see him from this angle, Arthur could tell he nodded. "Let's say we clean all this up, and when we leave, we can go our separate ways?" He said.

"Sounds like a plan. Now let go of my head, I'm starting to get a headache." Arthur said, and extended a hand. Francis grabbed it, smearing blood and pressing on tender skin, and helped himself up.

Quietly but efficiently, they cleaned up the restroom. Surprisingly, they assisted each other on wiping off the blood and essentially making themselves look like they hadn't tried to knock one another out, on the mutual fear of what their friends would say because of their disapproved relationship.

“I’m sorry.” Francis looked up. “I know we can’t just avoid each other forever…”

“It’s not your fault.” Francis mumbled. He wanted to yell at him, because he was catching on incredibly slowly. The only thing he could do was hope Arthur would be convinced to make up.

“I know, it’s yours.” Arthur sighed, oblivious to Francis’ eyes narrowing. “Now, we can’t just walk out of the bathroom being the best of mates and all, but we can at least–”

"Get along once in a while, yes.” Finally, he was getting somewhere! Francis pointed to a rip in his blazer. “Remember to sew that later. The school has a seamstress, you know."

"I know how to sew. It's like embroidering."

"Your embroidery is skilled."

"Thank you." Arthur straightened Francis' tie. "You know, up close, I realized something about you."

"And what is that?"

"You could play the Hunchback of Notre Dame."

Francis scoffed, suppressing a smile, and turned on his heel. Before he pushed open the door, Arthur added: "Ladies first."

He looked back, smiling. He cleared his throat, and a different smile took its place, a sultrier one. He put on the face he wore in public, and left the restroom.

It was odd. It was one of their rougher brawls, yet it felt like a joke. He'd never seen this side of Francis; even though they were hitting each other physically and verbally, it felt playful. What was Francis' point? What was he trying to say, or do in general? What was his plan? He always had some sinister master plot, or so Arthur thought.

He felt less stressed, after having a little conversation with Francis. He wondered if that was Francis. He was much different than the one he hated as a child.

He noticed there was still blood smeared on one of the stall doors. Arthur took a paper towel, and wiping away at it, he saw a haiku written in Sharpie on the wall.  _Everything will change. People, ideas, the world. Why not change with it?_

He looked in the mirror, smoothed down his hair, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *TRANSLATIONS* I'm not sure how much French you know, but I'm assuming you know ami, mon dieu, and oui.  
> -lâche = coward  
> -Mangez de la merde et mourez, connard = "Eat shit and die, asshole!"  
> -C'est du passé = "It is in the past"  
> -Qui casse les verres les paie = "You pay for your mistakes."  
> -Au contrare = "On the contrary"
> 
> Okay, I don't know why it takes me a month to upload. I can't explain. Also, like I said, this whole Swim Arc was unplanned and it's really taking up my time. Like, I think I got mad several times writing this. I don't know if I dreamed this or if I actually wrote it and it's in one of my files, but in one of the future chapters, I was making Francis a total douchehole, and that's a conflict, because in this chapter, he's being the rational one????
> 
> To clear up this chapter because I think I failed in getting the message through: Francis is changing!! He really does want them to be friends, but Arthur is like ">:0 nuuu" and super ignorant. Seriously. I think only my AU has him this stupid. ARTHUR U R MISSING THE POINT BRO.
> 
> ON MORE IMPORTANT NOTES: I accidentally made a Pseud and I can't delete it :000000  
> ALSO AN IMPORTANT NOTE: if someone can suggest better chapter titles that'd be great bc my chapter titles are so bad omg

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [rising when we fall](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2597870) by [ShanleenKinnJaskey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShanleenKinnJaskey/pseuds/ShanleenKinnJaskey)




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